The Choice
by Big Cat
Summary: Vetinari and his wife go to vacation, leaving Commander Vimes to rule over the city, Carrot is the new DeputyCommander of the Watch. Lady Sybil has an idea about his personal life, although Vimes's oppinion.
1. Part One

**The Choice**

_**Part One**_

There was a plenty of place behind the hangings, so Mr. Betting could observe everything happening around the negotiation table in full comfort. He knew what was going to happen and he knew what the deal was for, the problem was that he hated acting as a second-grade spy. He had his best qualities; as obvious, quite hidden to be noticed by his new master. What he did best was granted by his former employer. He made his schedule busy enough to let Anita abandon him, although she loved him much more than she could admit it. He felt guilty when she moved to Quirm, establishing her prosperous business there. The place was good enough for a talented lacemaker she was. Even after those three years, he had no courage to visit her, though he had many chances to do his job there. However, time changes, unfortunately… The new king was a man with different vision over politics; his point was joining, not separating, as the former king insisted. He watched the life with different judgment, and what he saw, was what Mr. Betting hated. Why should the king die…? He was not a good man as such, but he made his days occupied and his pockets full. What King Stephen did firstly was gathering of the 'interactive' stuff and made them understand that He is the Master here and his rule will be His Rule. Pearce Betting was astonished. He knew that opposing his new master was a foolish act of suicide, but he had the courage to ask for audience. He did not remember what he said, but he still remembered the stare King Stephen had at the end of his tirade.

When he went home, he was pale and soundless. The housekeeper stood out of his chambers door, expecting to break in if necessary. He was not afraid of his own hand. He could do it anytime; he was sitting in silence, lending his ears to the street, expecting to hear well-known steps, a rush and a drawing of a bow. What he knew was that all kings are the same. King Petromus had a firm hand; he made no bones about taking more draconic measures against his enemies. He knew that because his best friend Marcus Delrogue was a member of THS, his Majesty's personal punitive squad. He expected to smell his aftershave that evening. He knew that it would be him; it was always him when there should be a fast hit.

What he did not expect was the letter he received shortly after returning home. King Stephen asked for his presence at the Conferencing in the Palace the next day. What he had to do was staying silent and listen. It was strictly written: 'Behind'. The only places to hide _behind_ were those stupid hangings, suspended on the walls. When the Amazons came, he kept his breath. Her Majesty queen Germana herself. She was slim and short very young lady aged about sixteen or seventeen, it was obvious she was frightened to death, shimmering and turning all the time to her adult companion, Lady Marta Stonjegger, former queen's personal guardian. She was silent all the time. Her face was stabbed in Her Majesty queen Bettina's face. There was some kind of an expression war between them; if the eyes could kill, thought Mr. Betting, then there would be a sea of royal blood here.

'I do understand your principals' continued King Stephen. 'But there are a lot of misunderstandings we have to cover in our rule, Your Majesty. It is our duty to fulfil our destiny as rulers, the people would ask a lot if questions if we don't.'

'It is true what you are saying' answered the young queen and turned to Lady Marta's face. 'We have to gather against our own enemies.'

'We actually… don't have other enemies, Your Majesty' coughed King Stephen. Germana stared at him for a second, then turned at her left to receive the comments, then she smiled guiltily and shook her head, face down. 'Yes, yes, I nearly forgot. Forgive me… Well, then we just have to learn to live without killing each other, my friend Stephen. May I call you Stephen? I thought that we have already gathered, observing the situation we are in. I mean Lady Bettina's presence at your side as your companion…'

'She is actually my wife, dear Germana.'

'Oh, yes, forgive me, I really forgot… Well, that's much better then. We have gathered against our… uhum… we are gathered in a happy family, smaiilians and quartians. We could be good friends then… If you and we could be more delicate in some manners, as I have been told, we could mention the Treaty done. Written, signed and executed.'

'It was done a year ago, Your Majesty', smiled Stephen, 'but you are right. We are neighbours from thousands of years; we have always been in war because of something happened before our time, something too insignificant, a mere trifle nonsense darkening our days. We have to shake our hands, because we are friends now. Time will pass and we will learn how to be good neighbours, I know the beginning is hard and there would be some misunderstandings in future, but we have to face the reality. After all we live in a new time and we have to vouch for our people's well being.'

Queen Germana smiled at him, her eyes watered; she gave him her hand and shook it dramatically. King's eyes turned to Bettina's stare. She gazed at him and smiled happily, she knew how important it was for him, so she did not oppose him, although she had the right. Shaking hands with the young queen of Quart was useless. She was too manipulated; her voice was weaker than the servants. The one he had to negotiate was standing behind the girl. Bettina knew it would be hard to deal with the Council, but dealing with Marta was even harder. Her dark eyes observed the situation, she was bored of them all – smaiilians, quartians, men and women. What she wanted was to go back on the Warfield, where she was the best. Since De Constars left Quart, she became the ruler of the Army. Queen Balmola had no martial spirit, although she had a good eye on the politics. The one she could compare with was the Tulip, but she was summoned to fulfil her duty away from her sight. What a blessing… De Constars were gone, her way was free, and the army was her at last. She could do so many changes, if only she could control the Council…

Bettina knew that. She was not afraid of Marta, because she was not a danger for her or her mother; she was a woman with martial rights, fulfilling her duty, whatever it was now. But as every person, she had her weakness. She gazed at the old Amazon for longer that she thought she would, even when young Germana stood up and left the room. She removed her hand from Stephen's shoulder, letting him turn to her and smile. He pressed her cheek with a kiss and moved to the hanging, facing Mr. Betting lifting the rich dusty tapestry.

'What do you think?' gazed the King, turning his back to him and coming closer to his wife's chair. Mr. Betting's most evaluated talent was the quick gasp of what is going on. Therefore, that's why the invitation was for: to witness the gathering of two enemies. He had to be the private eye behind the curtains, catching the meaning of it all. The spy looked around, made a shifty step to his direction and sighed with boredom: 'I think the queen is too young to have any decision making by her own.' He stood closer and faced queen Bettina's tired eyes. 'I also think we might have a problem.'

The King sat, took the Amazon's hand in his and lowered his head. 'I believe you might be right, Mr. Betting. I suspect queen Germana has to make her a favour and get rid of some elements, affecting her rule. What do you think, darling?' He gazed at his wife's face. She buried her head in his adoring hands and answered slowly: 'I think you are both wrong. I have the feeling we are to see a lot from young Germana.' She stood up and prepared to exit. She turned around before leaving the room and sighed: 'But I would be surer if you put her party under surveillance. She would make us a favour, if we are patient enough.' King Stephen followed her retraction and marched nervously through the room.

'I guess you know what you are here for' said King Stephen, when Mr. Betting sat at the place he pointed. The man was nervous, it was obvious why.

'I do, Your Majesty' answered Pearce and stared at him. 'You wanted me to witness Her Majesty's move.'

'You mean her… stupidity?'

'Well…' the man rounded his eyes. 'She is quite young, she still have a lot to perceive in this direction.'

'You speak too moderate. She is a girl with power, which is very dangerous, as I could oversee. We have been sacrificing a lot for that Treaty, but all she could say in that direction was that her voice must be considered as a key in our agreement. It was obvious she was out of touch with the details. I think we are dealing with too young aggressive element we should be aware of. What do you think?'

Mr. Betting put his hands on his lap; it was not easy to answer a question he was too far from the beginning. Yes, the queen of Quart was young, very ambitious, otherwise she wouldn't have come here by herself with only one companion, nevertheless how vindicate she was. He knew her mother, she was a woman with style and name in politics, her methods were severe, but upright, nevertheless what was said after her death. He knew young Germana since she was born; she was a girl with poor health and a sick ambition to rule at any cost, putting her into the list of 'The most unwanted royals Pierce Betting would consider working with'. He looked at King Stephen's eyes and red his tiredness. He sighed deeply and put his hands on the table.

'Aloud me to speak, Your Majesty?'

Stephen smiled and leaned back. 'Granted' he answered. Pearce faced him and pronounced slowly: 'I think Her Majesty is right, Sir. We may expect too much and overestimate or underestimate the symbols we just met in Her Majesty's presence.' He lifted slowly and made a step aside. 'We still can not say anything about Queen Germana's style, we should wait and see. However, we should take some precautions in future. Putting her under surveillance should be our prime task.'

He stood still by the table's end and waited for the reply. King Stephen knit his eyebrows and murmured. He was not happy. Ruling the country was a hard job. What he inherited after King Petromus's death was too much to ask just for a broom and a mop. The country was almost ruined, the incomes were less than the expenses, and the consequences after the war were damageable. The people were in rage. What they wanted was piece, but not only piece with Quart, but a balance in state level. Petromus's luxurious habits made Smaiil face some financial problems. For first time in Smaiil's history. Even the gold produced in the country was not enough to make people less worried. Petromus's death and Stephen's election were promisable. The question the new King asked now was if it was a right decision…

'I do understand your visions, Mr. Betting' he added folding his arms. 'We are gathered here to make a small brain storming session and I am glad I could discuss the matter with you.' He stood up and walked by his site. Pierce observed his movement with interest. The King put his hand on his shoulder and smiled at his nervous face. 'I am glad I have found a genuine man at last. What you said yesterday evening impressed me. I think I could rely on you, I also believe my predecessor had good opinion about you.'

Pierce Betting blinked and tried to say something, but his mouth made a 'flip-flap' sound and nothing more. 'I have a job for you, Mr. Betting.' King Stephen made a step aside backing at him. 'I want you to look over the 'Office' and take any measures to keep Smaiil safe.' He turned back fast and faced him with seriousness in his deep blue eyes. 'I think I could rely on you, couldn't I?

Pierce made a step back. Well, that was unexpected. What he thought when he went through the Palace gates this afternoon was that he should have written his epigram earlier. What he faced now was not only the opposite. It was a quick career raise he even stopped hoping years ago. Today was definitely a good day in his life. He stood still and lowered his head in a military manner. King Stephen took his hand and shook it hard. Pierce Betting moved to the exit. He had a lot of work to do, time pressed his thoughts.

---

Sir Samuel Vimes, Commander of Ankh-Morpork City Watch and Duke of Ankh, squinted at the letter he had in his hands. He red it several times, although he knew the words, he could not understand them. It was not his special talent to do the politics, he was a cop after all, his job was to watch over the city and to chase after those who endangered it. However, this was… Vetinari sent him his regards and some instructions about the doings in Ankh-Morpork. Why should he be his deputy while he was gone? He never took a holiday, even when he was shot and poisoned. Now, when he got married, one year after that ominous day… now he went on holiday… with his wife… Leaving poor old Sam Vimes to take care of the city.

'That is not fair' Commander's ears heard the sentence before knowing it was his mouth opened. He sat at his chair behind the messy desk and tried to lift his feet on it. The paper sea moved slowly and toppled over his lap, spilling on the floor. Vimes stood up with an angry cry, that was enough, these papers were there for weeks, even months. He never had the knowledge of paper organizing, bit what he knew was that what he should never do is destroying. He destroyed nothing – his wardrobe at the Yards was full with shabby useless boots, he never had the heart to dump them away; nevertheless he was the richest man in Ankh-Morpork, he had the odd idea they would be useful someday. Let us not talk about his file holder at home… Sybil thought it would fall apart someday, if her husband doesn't stop filling it with useless papers as theatre tickets and advertisement fliers.

Sam Vimes kicked the paper river in his feet and took the hornpipe, put on the wall, whistled in it and stared at the exit. Soon after Collon appeared, breathlessly opened the door and saluted puffing.

'Let Carrot know I would like to see him, Fred.' Sergeant Collon saluted slowly, clearing his throat. Vimes turned to his stare. 'Is there something wrong?' Fred knit his eyebrows, his eyes failed down. Commander sighed again. 'What it is this time?'

Fred bent his head and smiled nervously: 'Little Thomas had a toothache, Commander. I told Carrot to use the babysitter Her Ladyship sent him, but he said she couldn't…'

'I see, Fred. Well… when he comes back, let me know I will be waiting at Vetinari's office.' He turned to his sit, preparing to take it, stared at the waist around it and pointed at the floor. 'Do me a favour, Fred, get rid of that trash.'

Fred obeyed immediately, soon after the door slapped his back shouting at the crowd downstairs. Vimes shut his eyes for a second. What Carrot did was… well… good, observing his family's status, after all he was the only parent of his infants. The father should do sacrifices for his children… But this was too long, it started affecting his job at he Watch. Sybil used to say he was having a single's syndrome, he was too devoted to his boys. That was unusual situation, but what he did bothered him more and more. Sam Vimes was a man with two sons too, he was no less devoted to his family, although he had Sybil there looking at them. Carrot had to be helped. He never asked for anything from him, nor his friends. However, the measures Samuel Vimes thought out from long time had to be taken. Sybil was right. He had to do something. He had to keep his prejudice to himself.

---

The first thing Drumknott did after receiving the letter from His Lordship was to take a deep breath. It was expected for long time, since the anniversary occasion Lord Vetinari pondered over the holiday he would spend with his wife. It was obvious it would not be in the city, he would never be left alone, and that is what he desperately needed for those months since Her Ladyship went into the Palace for first time. It was obvious why it happened now. His Lordship's behaviour the last several months was clear enough.

The second thing Drumknott did was to prepare the Oblong office for his current occupant. He removed Lord Vetinari's papers in a special container and cleaned the desk, the open drawers and what he could reach, not touching the lockers and the hidden shells known to his master only. The next was to make a hot tea for His Grace, rushing into the office. He knew Commander Vimes well, nevertheless they were not good friends. He expected his anger months before the Patrician announced his permanent withdrawal. It was obvious who was going to take his place during his leave. The guilds were not happy, but Vetinari let them know he would be very unhappy if they do mess with their rejection. It would be useless. Whoever the Patrician chose the guilds should never contest. Drumknott smiled slightly. Vetinari had a great power of imagination in perturbing someone's mind.

Commander Vimes sat at the ruler's chair and jumped up in a hurry, his suspicious mind didn't let him relax anywhere, thinking he would be watched, especially here, in the Oblong office, Vetinari's hornet's nest. He was sure His Lordship was somewhere around, hiding and giggling at his moves, opening a notebook and writing every stupid step he does during his weird experiment.

'May I do anything for you, Milord?' asked the secretary when Vimes finally sat and put his muddy boots over the desk.

'Well… I don't know… what does His Lordship usually do?'

'He reads files, he writes notes, he speaks with the guild members, he works over reports and memos, he gives orders, he signs contracts and verdicts, he negotiates in trade and politic issues, he audiences ambassadors and special alliances, he…'

'All right, I understand!' Vimes lifted up and nervously paced through the office. He moved closer to see Drumknott's look. It was not easy, the man had the fastest eyes in the Disk. The Deputy Patrician stood at his front and sighed loudly. 'You know I will not be like Vetinari.' Drumknott nodded. 'I can not be him, it is obvious. I even don't know why he noticed me as his deputy. I did nothing to deserve this.'

Drumknott rounded his eyes. Vimes stared at him. 'I believe I will not let the cat out of the bag if I say His Lordship used to say many pleasant words about you, Milord. I believe also that his choice is well considered.'

'What bothers me now, dear friend, is that he might be wrong, leaving the city in my hands. I am not a politician, I am a cop.'

'You are His Grace the Duke of Ankh, Milord.'

'I am still no trained to be in a position like this.'

'You did well during your mission in Ubervald, Milord. His Lordship never sued to say it aloud, but he was truly impressed. He never talked about the events at the Koom-Valey events, but I was under the impression he finds your contribution as more than useful.'

Vimes sat at the chair in his front and buried his eyes down. What he heard was too odd to be taken seriously. Vetinari thought he was… useful… Yea, yea… The fact was that he had to act his part into this particular game. He hated being a politician, he had to be it twice, and he genuinely confessed he didn't like it. He was a man of action, not a man to sit and think in advance. He would rather jump through the window in someone's scream, not waiting the report letting him know what had been done afterwards. But what Vetinari did was to put him under his confidence. He was not sure was this one of his jokes, but he had no right to fail, not this time. Vimes stared at Drumknott's face and said slowly:

'I will need a help, my friend.'

The secretary bowed and made a step to the door. 'His Lordship instructed me already, Milord. I will do anything in this direction, as far as I could be helpful.'

He opened the door and went through it. Before closing, he smiled slightly and whispered: 'By the way the first meeting will be in five minutes. Lord Rust is waiting already.' Vimes burst into panic.

----------------------------------------------------------------

So, guys, this is the second part I promised after The Red Tulip. I would like to have your oppinion.


	2. Part Two

**The Choice**

**Part Two**

Captain Carrot's last wish was to see Nobby at his home. He liked the little gnome, it was obvious, he was one of his friends he could rely if anything happens, he could even baby-sit the boys when he was on duty, but that was too much. No one likes to see a small figure at his kitchen window, jumping to glimpse what is going on inside. Carrot had a long talk with his mates in the Watch some weeks after Angua's death; he made them clear that the guards etc. were not welcome anymore. He had bad moments before his milestone speech, he knew most of them would understand and go away pleasantly, but people like Nobby, Collon and Cheery wouldn't. They thought there was something more than work between them all, there was a friendship involved, although Carrot had a strange perception for this term, having too many individuals he kept close enough to classify as such.

Collon was a wise man, although he was a sergeant. He knew Carrot since his first day in the Watch, when the city was in its golden sleepy years. There was much common between them, although they were too different in all kind of aspects.

Cheery was the first dwarf constable, she was Carrot's protégée, his right hand; nevertheless none of them both would admit it. She related closely to him and Angua, thinking their marriage would never contract without her momentary interference. She had the right, Carrot would never ask the question and Angua would never accept if she did not day her words. Talking their fears away was not easy, especially Angua's, she was too frightened to recognize herself as future Mrs. Ironfaunderson, because she had some very forceful points, one of them was related with the kids, if there would be any. Cheery took their marriage as her own success. What happened next broke her apart almost the same as Carrot. She thought she had a bounded duty to Thomas and Hedrick, she could never leave the boys alone, and she visited them every day before and after her shift, despite of Carrot's protests. She had the right to be there and Carrot knew it. She was a friend, his confidante for years; she was his family long after he left Mine number Seven.

Nobby was the last of the Holly Trinity, as he called them, who Carrot thought would never draw aside easily. He was there because he was… nowhere else. Being in Carrot's yard was as common as the sun in the sky. Captain asked himself often, why. Some of the answers coming to his head were too opposing. Beginning with his eternal wish to be everywhere, jumping at anyone's face anytime, showing off his pimples as a freak show… Moreover, his hidden desire to be where he was not that outcast, poor fellow Nobby, the grown boy with no social life, starving for a little sparkle of love…

'Good day, chief' greeted Nobby, saluted anyhow, and stepped through the half-open door into the house. Carrot knit his eyebrows and exhaled loudly. 'How's hangin'?'

Carrot passed after him, trying to catch his steps to children's room. He was too slow, obviously, because when he went to the nursery, Nobby already drooped over the infants, handing them a plastic cockchafer. Carrot tired to take it away, but there were fewer things you could drag from Hedrick's hold. The boys giggled. Carrot stared at the little man nervously.

'What are you doing here, Nobby? I recall I told you not to…'

'Mr. Vimes asked for you, Captain. I thought you would be puzzled whom to leave the boys, so I said to myself '_Nobby, now is time to help the lad Carrot, you are damn good baby-sitter, go there and_…'

'I _have_ a baby-sitter, Nobby!'

'Oh, that spinster Carlotta, Her Ladyship's protégée, that sticky peace of female rat, that gorgeous _babe_, oh, she would not come anyway.'

'Why do you think so?' Carrot's wide-open stare made its path to Nobby's playful eyes. 'Couse she went out the Hub Gate this mornin', lad. Corporal Stubbs saw her at the end of his shift, this is what he said on the meeting an hour ago. That's why.'

Carrot bit his lips, looked at the cradle, then to Nobby, to the door, to Nobby and the cradle again. He sighed deep and sat in the chair nearby. The boys played with the interesting toy, gurgling and screaming, small hands and feet flied in the air. He put his hands over his face, exhaling with difficult. Soon he stood up and tidied his breastplate's straps a little, gazing at Nobby with a rage look.

'Do be careful, Nobby, I will be back in hour or two, I want to see them here where I let them, no walks in the park, no baby parties, no folk dances, no culinary art launch, and _no_ air throws as the last time. I still cannot make the boys go to sleep without those… experiments. Do _you_ understand, Nobby? _No anything_!'

Carrot's nose jabbed Nobby's deeply, if there would be more space his nose would go through his nape. The little man nodded, Carrot's stare made him nod again, this time with less excitement.

Captain lifted up from his position and looked at the babies. Their eyes followed his stare, lifting their little fingers to catch his shadow falling over their common bed. His frightened smile fixed at them for a second, then he moved back, dragging Nobby's collar to the gateway.

'When I come back, and Nobby, I _will_ definitely come back _sooner_ than you think, I will be very unhappy if I see the house messy. Do me a favour, old friend, don't do anything you would not like to clear or _repair_ later.'

'Don't worry, Captain, I'm your man. Now go, go, Mr. Vimes is waiting. Don't you stay there, move. He said he would be at Vetinari's office.'

'Why there?'

'How could I know? You know Old Stoneface. It's never easy to catch his mind.'

Carrot looked at Nobby's face once again. He knit his eyebrows; Nobby bit his lips and slammed the door at his face with a genuine smile.

---

Anne Frisky walked down the street. It was her first month in Ankh-Morpork, the city that never sleeps. She knew that well enough; her first job when she arrived, was to find Dr. Sloan's surgery, preparing for her obligations as an educated nurse. Since her graduation at The Quirm's Nurse Academy, she had to do her job for first time. Her father agreed she needed a professional education, but working in a hospital, with all those sick people… No way, nada, basta, gurly, don't even think so. Her place was by the kitchen's oven, serving her brothers and who knows, her future husband. She was a Frisky, Prudence Town's mayor's only daughter, she had to be an example for all of the female citizens, their mother-protectress, their shepherdess, their everything. Since Mrs. Frisky went to heaven, Anne's life turned into hell. She was well known as a good girl, a good wife afterwards, and a good widow subsequently. What she hated most was her father's desire to turn her into what she was not. Yes, she was the mayor's daughter, but she would never be The Mayor's Daughter.

Prudence was a grate place for living, it was too small to have any ambitions, but its biggest advantage was its position. It was situated in the beautiful Quirm valley, the still (!!!) clear waters of Ankh made their path through it, and mostly, it was not far from Quirm… That closeness played its crucial role. When the Yellow flake took over the city, it was not hard to break into Prudence. In a month it took hundreds valuable lives, including her family's. In a week, she turned into an orphan and a widow with no one by her side. What made her live, she often asked this question, burying her face in the pillow. It was not fair. She had to burry the rest of her kin in the Prudence graveyard and to wake up soon. The town needed her help. She was a decent, skilful woman with cold-blooded intellect; she had to do her duty to the town. She put her hands to the work. The Prudence public health station had to open again.

When she met Dr. Loan for first time, he had no time to introduce himself properly, there were hundreds to be cured, watched, injected and eyes closed. When everything ended, the Town of Prudence did not exist anymore. Not the way it did before. Those five hundred people surviving the death, were not enough to make Prudence live again. Dr. Loan was a good man, he knew Anne have nowhere to go, she was all alone, a good twenty and some years old girl with no life in her dark blue eyes. He offered her a job. She was a skilful nurse after all. She accepted it.

Anne had to return to the Dolls. Her new home was a small room at the second floor of Mrs. Verger's boarding house. She had to return before midnight, the landlady had precise instructions. Disobeying them would be an act of breaking the rules. She followed her own road, lost in her thoughts. When she leaved Dr. Loan's clinic, it was only ten. She still had time.

She stepped slowly at Filigree street. There was a noise coming nearby. She turned her attention to a small building, buried in the pavement. It was dark, peeled and as dirty as any other building on the same street. The façade had too many colours; none of them could say anything about the recent paint. There was a label on it. 'The Drum' must have been some pub, because there were also two glasses on the label, well, quite erased by the time and the weather conditions through those centuries it was hanging here. Anne thought for a moment and moved down the stairs. The door opened before she pressed the handle. A large vampire stared her face. He stood up for a second, observing her precisely. Then he moved aside, his eyes watered with interest. He knew who was facing him.

'Good evening, Miss Frisky.' He bowed at her. She smiled in reply.

'Good evening, Mr. Ashtonberger. How is your ear?'

The vampire touched the side behind his cheek and blinked nervously: 'It is fine, thank you. I would like to thank you again for you help, Miss Frisky. Thanks heaven you were there when those stupid peasants…'

'I am often told this, Mr. Ashtonberger, believe me.' She bent closer and whispered: 'If I were you I would not parade with my red ribbon in public. You know people, they don't like when someone that could kill them in a second bite drinks in their presence.'

'I will follow your advice, madam, I will definitely. I just need to go out sometimes and mess with the rest of the world…'

'Do it, no one will ever stop you, but…' she bent nearer, just by his ear. '…do it carefully, Mr. Ashtonberger.'

The vampire stepped back. No one living creature would do any actions so close to his… uhum… teeth, without giving himself a long thought. _One of Them_, he thought. She must be One of Them. One of the… Hidden. Although he did not smell and feel anything, he still had his head on, and still tied up with his piteous life. If she was not one of Them, she would never… They passed each other; the vampire shimmered and run up from her sight. Anne smiled. So, it was true, the vampires were really easy to scare. Her father was right.

The premises of 'The Drum' were wide and dark. When she entered, she heard only the silence. Everyone was looking at her. She was a woman, a _young_ woman; she was alone, here, in the darkness. By herself. Poor lamb, gathered with wolves… Her stare made someone change his plans, moving to the door and exiting in the evening air. It was much better. Even the Shades were a better place than being in a room with a _little_ _harmless_ _woman_. The LHW factor was well known in the city. No one knows what LHW would do.

The bartender smiled nervously, put a serviette at the board. That was the international pub 'Welcome'. Anne sat at the high stool. 'What will it be, gorgeous?' asked the bartender, mopping the next spotty glass. She gazed at the bottles behind the bar, counting and thinking over. She was in a bar. An Ankh-Morpork bar. What people do here? Drink. What do they mostly drink? She turned to see what was going around her. 'Bear, please' answered Anne. The mug appeared in a second. She observed it for a minute, then lifted and swallowed a huge swig. 'What are you here for, gorgeous?' asked the bartender. He graduated the Bartender's university in Pseudopolis with honours. The woman lifted her shoulders. 'Why do people come to a pub, my friend?' The man smiled in a brief. 'Because they are lonely, they have no job, they have no life or just want a pint of beer, I guess.' She smiled back. He watched her for long. She was still with her white overall. 'Who are you from?' The bartender gazed at her. She smiled again. 'I guess I just want a beer.' 'Ah, yes, beer.'

The man looked at the room. Everyone stared at his or her glasses. Soon the noise was back. Anne observed the customers with interest. There were a couple of trolls sitting on the table nearby; a group of bakers drank in the corner and a tall red-haired lad in a guardian uniform at the very end of the room drank a cup of milk. He was pale, silent, his look was sad. He had the most wistful eyes Anne had ever seen. She observed him much longer than it needed. He returned with a sad smile and burst his eyes back into his drink.

The bartender watched her with interest, she turned to see his smiling face, then he made his biggest mistake – he winked at her. She slapped his face. 'What was it for?' asked the man, lifting himself from the floor.

Anne put some coins on the board and prepared to jump from the high stool. 'Because you looked at me in dirty way' she answered.

'I did not!' the man jumped after her, caught her at the door and bowed nervously. 'I do apologise, Madam. I didn't want to harm you or offend you, or whatever, I just have this look since I was born.'

She turned to him and smiled slightly, pressing the door handle. 'Good! I thought it also.'

'But… why?' screamed the bartender while she was exiting. She laughed gently and put her hand over his arm. 'You are a morporkian, I am not. You are a man, I am not. My father used to say: 'To make people respect you, you have to do a slightly stupid, but unexpected act.' He also told me if I ever go to Ankh-Morpork to slap the first bartender in his face for that awful beer he drank while being here in his youth. I apologise for this, but I had to do my bounded duty to my late parent.'

She went out, giggling, bartender following with his mouth wide-open. He stared at her move for a while, then he burst into laughter, lifted his hand and yelled: 'We are full time open, do not pass by without coming to say Hallo… or slap me again.' He walked into the bar, still laughing, his eyes watered. He almost shoved the steel breastplate of the man exiting.

'Oh, hallo, Mr. Carrot. Good evening, Mr. Carrot.'

The man said nothing, his eyes did the reply.

---

'Such unpleasant, dear. Miss Carlotta didn't even say Goodbye! We have to do something!' Lady Sybil moved up from her chair to set her husband's napkin in his collar. Samuel Vimes turned off his ears, he murmured for a second, fixing his eyes in the papers at his left. 'Poor Captain! Whom would he trust the children now? We have to do something to help him.'

'Yes, dear. Whatever you say.'

'Especially now, when he has to do with the Watch single-handed.'

'That is life, dear' answered His Grace with no interest. 'I also have to do with the city single-handed. It is not easy for anyone.'

'But he is so alone, dear. You know what I was talking for all those months since poor Angua left us. We have to do something… Sam! Don't put your attention aside! Leave the papers!'

Deputy Patrician Vimes lifted his face and looked at his wife. 'I have to read _this all_, dear. If I had time, I would be delighted chatting with you. But this…' he pointed down. '…is important.'

Lady Sybil fastened her angry eyes at his. Sam Vimes was married for… well, almost eight years and he knew that look. He even had a name of it – 'the implicit look' – the one that says: 'If you even consider not obeying, you would have to ask someone to pick up your parts from the floor… with tweezers'. He obeyed calmly, put the papers aside and tried to smile, lifting the spoon from the cold potato soup. Sybil relaxed at her seat and rang the bell at her front. Willikins appeared at once.

'Would you warm up His Grace's soup, Willikins?... Again.'

The butler obeyed. Sir Samuel Vimes sighed in reply and mopped his lips with the napkin. Her Ladyship observed him for longer than he could bear, he leaned back and put his palms on the table.

'I am listening, Sybil. Shoot me.'

She smiled in reply and put her spoon aside. 'Maybe the ball idea would be useful at this moment, dear.'

'We already talked about this, Sybil' protested Vimes. Her Ladyship lifted her conciliatory hand. 'I am just pointing that we could organize a small ball for the Watch, dear. If Captain Ironfaunderson meets a good lady there, it would be a bonus.'

'Sybil!' sighed Vimes. 'The last Watch ball was two hundred years ago.'

'A nice reason to put it now, don't you think so?'

'I don't.'

'Sam, you are not helping me at all.'

'Sorry, dear.'

'After all the society has to be introduced to the brave men and women guarding its safety. Just consider the idea to gather all of the people who are involved with our well being with those who use to rule the city.'

'But, dear!' Vimes's eyes opened widely. 'The thieves and the beggars would not be a good picture to observe.'

'Don't foolish yourself, Samuel Vimes!' laughed Lady Sybil. 'I am talking about the nobles, the Guild presidents, the main merchants, those who rule _over_ the city, darling.'

'I'm sorry, dear.'

'Don't you think this is a good idea?'

Vimes stared at his wife's eyes. No, she was not joking. Not at all. Not this time. She really wanted to do it, didn't she? And what was he doing? Opposing her. He knew he should _never_ oppose when she let her hear the last of something Of course, he was too damn big fool to do it when she already decided it. He tried once. It heart him for weeks.

'What ever you say, dear' replied Sam Vimes.

'Wonderful!' Her Ladyship slapped her hands in reply. 'I think we should put the ball here, dear. The Ancient Hall is big enough for any event, I will contact the food deliverer, and Willikins will become sure everything will be in order. What do you think about… let me see…'

'Some months would be enough to prepare, I guess?' blinked Vimes with misbeliever. He closed his eyes when his wife laughed at his stare.

'Don't be stupid, Samuel. Two weeks would be enough. I will take care of any detail personally. I want this ball to be the best ever we have organized. After all we owe it to our friends from the Watch.'

'Yes, dear. Forgive me my stupidity, dear.'

'What I want from you…' Sybil moved up and pressed his crouched fingers. '…is to be sure Captain Carrot would be there. Would you do me this favour, dear?'

He looked at her, she was using her seducing look. He shimmered, blinked for a while and bent his head. Well, that's it, Vimes thought. I tried, I really tried… Forgive me, old chap Carrot, but you are doomed.

---


	3. Part Three

**The Choice**

**Part Three**

---

'He did what?'

Lord Vetinari looked at the paper again. 'He had laughed at Lord Rust's face, dear.'

Lady Antonia stared at him for a moment and burst into laughter again. Her face was red already, her stomach started to hurt inside, that was too much. Since they arrived in Smaiil, that was the third clacks message her husband received. During their long journey, they stopped many times by the towers on the road, but that was the first time Lord Vetinari stated one at her attention. She was astonished completely; he never wanted to share with her his state duty. Well, she joined him everywhere, including some of the meetings His Lordship used to have in the Oblong Office. She was introduced with her function shortly after their first anniversary. He wanted her witness his success. He wanted her know he was the best choice she could have in a marriage. However, he never used to let her closer to his secret state dealings.

She put her hand on his and let him raise it to his lips.

'What would happen next, Havelock?'

He looked at her and sighed.

'I do can predict Lord Rust's moves, my dear, but what your brother will do to him afterwards is even more perverted than he ever thought. What I see, and I am a man known for my foresight abilities, is much more interesting than we could ever count on.'

'You mean, he is going to cane him to death in everybody's sight?'

'Oh, not that far, dear, not that far.' Vetinari smiled at her and stood up from his chair to stir his legs. 'What I believe Lord Rust would do is to work the guilds up against Vimes.'

'I don't think he would succeed, dear' smiled Her Ladyship.

Vetinari turned his face to hers and replied thoughtfully. 'I don't either. Nevertheless, according to my knowledge of Lord Rust's nature and your brother's influence skills, I believe we will have a lot to see. I am sorry we are not closer to witness the events, but what we are to be grateful, is that we are far enough to protect ourselves from the Vimes-Rust deluge falling over the city.'

Antonia burst into her thoughts too. She tried not to look too interested in the forthcoming. She was tired of all those events already. These several months she separated from her adopted daughter were enough to make her shiver at the mere thought of anything happen to the only person she had so close to her heart. While her tottery campaign against the couple endangering her family, she had to press her feelings. What happened next made her forget about everything for some weeks. Now Bettina called her, she had to come, the baby would be born any moment, she made herself forget about the closeness with Quart and the dangers of Smaiil. Her child needed her and she obeyed the call of the heart.

In addition – this… No, she was not afraid for her brother; he was a man of action, well-respected figure in both politics and social affairs. He knew what he was doing, although he was too cautious most of the time. He had the heart of a cop, he had the guts of a rebel, and he definitely was _not_ a stupid and senseless idiot like most of the people she knew back in Ankh-Morpork.

'I see you are not troubled of the forthcoming events, dear' she commented, staring at Vetinari's face.

'Why should I?' he replied. 'Sir Samuel would be a fresh wind for our city, my dear. He is not the man I could state for my successor, but if he was not that obsessed with the idea to irritate any nobility in the city, he would be the best for the job.'

He walked to her and put his arms over her waist. 'If he was not that… how was the word… ah, yes, cop-minded, he would make his way up in the state affairs.'

Lady Antonia turned her face up to peer at his eyes. 'So, you say he is not quite good for that job?'

'I can testify I am not against Sir Samuel's career growth, I proved it many times. What I do constantly is to push him at that direction, and according the results, he has a good fortune, my dear. I don't say a political mind or ability to forecast the events, but he has … interesting capacities lost in the recent politicians I know.'

'Capacities?'

'Oh, yes, Antonia, he is a man I can never compare with, believe me, and I would never try if I have no other choice. He is a clever man, I confess, he has a good heart and he thinks with his hands and feet, what I would never do if not forced, of course. And… he has the biggest talent to reveal what is hidden whatever it is. I can assure you, he does.' He pressed a big kiss at her neck and smiled at her astonished eyes, whispering gently in her ear. 'If I were you I would never worry about him, dear. What he does best is making the things come to their places faster than anyone I know. If Lord Rust wants to oppose him, then let him. He will fail so quickly than no one in his position, believe me.'

He went to the sofa and sat, pulling her to his lap. She obeyed uneasily. 'But I promise I would keep my eye on him. What your beloved brother needs more than anything in the world is a good shake to wake up. I will not be the one with the shaking hand… but I know a man ready to enact.

---

Vimes knew he was under surveillance, but he was in two minds who would dare doing it. He was not an easy subject; the Assassin's guild knew it best. His first choice was Vetinari. Of course His Lordship would do such thing, nevertheless he was in Smaiil at this time, especially when Vimes was charged with the task of Ankh-Morpork's well being. He was not prepared for this all, he was not trained to be a politician, he was trained to be a cop, a good or bad cop - he was in doubt which one he was.

The other choice was Lord Rust. What they said to each other that evening was too much and he knew it. The final words they exchanged were not too assaulting for a cop, but Rust was one of _them_, the nobility. No lout would pique of any of them, because there were worse said on the street. Nevertheless, Rust was a sissy boy in Vimes's opinion, a nobleman born with a silver spoon in his mouth; what he knew about the street was that it was the place his carriage had to cross during his city journeys. Lord Rodney Rust was a man with strange vision about the world, His world. He would never act in a hurry, he was a cautious and clever person, thinking too much and acting too less. He had a military education; he went into the army when he was still a boy, too young to know what happens and to prevent it. If he ever knew what he would become to, maybe he would never let his father order to pack his stuff.

The fact was that Lord Rust was a respectful man, a member of a social group Vimes never used to like. Moreover, he was a man with connections, a special kind of bustard, acting slowly and backdoor. He had too high opinion for himself, which made people make fun of him, but what he never forgave was the cruel attitude. In addition, this is what he received that evening in the Oblong Office.

Well, he was not right to come to the office; anyway, he did it because he knew deeply in his heart that Vimes was a danger for the city. Moreover, he was a danger for Lord Rust and that was enough. Being called '…a rusty red-tapist… a useless sponger… a false impudent…' That was too much. This time Vimes crossed the line and he knew it. Well, he would never have the courage to apologise himself in Rust's face, but he tired to act as a gentleman: he sent a big bunch of flowers to his wife and a bottle of the best 'Kline Moore Special Liqueur' in Rodney Rust's office the same evening. He really hoped it would be a sign Lord Rust would read, but actually he doubted in his mature thinking right now. He tried to think once more, but he had no success. The papers he had in his hold begged for his attention.

He sighed. Drumknott pointed a spot in his field of vision.

'You have to sign here, Milord.'

'Is it necessary, Politus?'

'It is, Milord' answered the clerk and pointed again. 'This is a very profitable contract you are to sign.'

'I see where you point; I know what to do, thank you. But I have too many questions on mind and double more discrepancies. I need more time.'

'But, Milord, this contract would be…'

Vimes was not listening. Since the last few days, he was in a very bad mood. A dangerous mood, as the clerk noticed lately.

'Call the commission; I want to talk to them.'

'Is it necessary, Mr. Vimes?'

The clerk stared at his cold eyes and shimmered, before stepping back. There was a well-known sparkle in his look. He bowed thoughtfully and burst through the door.

The Commission gathered at the Rat Chamber, they were too many to be placed at the Oblong Office and not too much to gather at the Big Conference Hall. What they did when they saw the Deputy Patrician coming was to stand on their feet and welcome him nervously. They all knew Old Stoneface; they all had the bad experience talking to him the few last days. He had the courage to interrogate them, as they were prisoners, not just ask them questions. The last time they gathered was because of the Treaty with Klach, a tiny trade contract according the sand transaction for the anew-nascent glass industry in Ankh-Morpork. He kept them at the Rat Chamber for hours, they had to sweat many times before Vimes decided he was satisfied and signed the revise contract. Klach's ambassador was in rage, the price he relied on was negotiated too viciously. He had to admit his failure, although he had other plans. His gratuity slipped from his fingers as… as sand… He had to admit Vimes had the guts; he was not that stupid after all.

'So, folks, let me hear what you know about that clay stuff.'

Mr. Marcus Treambody, the Head Commissar cleared his throat, prepared to stand up, but slid down in His Grace's cold stare. He opened the file in his front.

'The clay is a material potters use to produce…'

'I know that, Marcus. Shoot me next.'

Mr. Treambody cleared his throat again and spread out the next page.

'The best clay fields were found in Llamedos seven hundred years ago, since then the country is the main clay export merchant until fifty years ago when another formation was found in Genua's own Maumee valley. We used to import the merchant from both sides, but Maumee clay is much better and quite productive for our need.'

'We still use the Llamedos clay, if I am not wrong?' added Vimes.

'Yes, indeed, but their clay is much plain, the structure of the dirt is such a mess, more applicable for the mass production, not for the classic taste of the modern morporkian.'

'Forgive me, Marcus, but I believe you have to reconsider your statement. I don't know many sophisticated morporkians, not where I was born and bred. They use ordinary cups made by ordinary clay, the one we import from Llamedos. You are talking to import a huge quantity of _expensive_ classic taste Maumee clay for our _mass production_ potteries, a sophisticated way to spend our valuable dollars for a merchant we don't need? Are you trying to tell me that the morporkians have to pay more taxes, to pay for clay they would not use because it would be too expensive to by?'

'But, Your Lordship…'

'I am not your Lordship, Marcus. Stop lordshipping me. I am _not_ Vetinari'

Marcus Treambody pressed his back in his chair, leaning against Vimes's fierce stare. His Grace the Duke of Ankh dropped his arm on the table and relaxed in his seat. He looked at the silent party around; it was obvious they were shimmering. Well, he never knew he had such an influence over people, not as such to make them fear for their skins. He smiled at himself. '_Stupid, stupid idiot! How dare you shout at that man's face? He is just doing his job_…' Vimes stood up and paced around the conference table.

'Our gathering is to make everything clear so to decide which is best for us all. I ask a lot of questions and a demand answers' he sighed, looking at the faces glancing down. 'I have my opinion and I tried to speak in support of it. I don't know if I am wrong or right. Now is your turn.' He sat back in his char, put his hands over the table and crossed his palms. 'Convince me.'

Marcus Treambody exchanged glances with his fellows and cleared his throat nervously. He drew the papers away and stood back.

'Maumee's clay is not that expensive, if I may add, Your Lord… I mean, Mr. Vimes. The travelling expense are much lower than those to Llamedos are, because the path is surer and straighter, there is a direct clacks line in immediate proximity of the road, if anything happens to the carts we might be informed and take measures in no time. Moreover, there are much more stations we could use as temporary storehouses; if there are not any we could build them, if we arrange with the local authorities; a double trust or something…'

Vimes listened carefully. The Head Commissar went to the end of the table to lift the black board. He sponged it out and took a piece of chalk.

'The merchandise is good, I can convince you with no difficulty, it is even much better than Llamedos and its value is much higher than we buy. Although we are able to discount it, we shouldn't, because the Maumee area needs a aid, it is too far from Genua and it supports from not much goods, the clay is their best chance not to starve to death. Believe me, I had the chance to visit this part of the world, you will be astonished to know what I saw there…'

He continued tracing his numbers, talking mainly to Vimes; lately he talked to some of the others, then to anyone who could hear him. His Grace listened calmly, now he was interested, not in the subject of course, the clay was not one of his favourite chat topics. He listened with interest because he saw someone who desperately needed to be listened. The man's face changed, he had a lively conversation, not a monologue, the rest of the party started asking him questions, admitted or ejected his arguments. Vimes smiled. There were more than four hours since their gathering and it seems no one noticed the darkening in the chamber; they had no eyes to see neither the servants with the lighted candlesticks, nor the maids with the tea and sandwiches an hour ago.

'…And that is why I think the import of Maumee clay as such important for our industry.'

Mr. Treambody sat at his place and smiled at himself. He was happy, he could support his meaning and that was enough. He looked at Vimes. He stared him in silence; his palms were still on the tabletop. His Grace stood up slowly, painfully shook his legs and reached for his hand.

'Well done, young man' smiled Vimes. 'You did well, I confess I am impressed. You really stand behind your words and I assure it will be noticed even further, you are a man with future, I can state it.'

He moved through the chamber with a strange look in his face. 'I believe you are right for the Maumee clay, it is in our interest to import more of this particular merchandise, after all people change and maybe some would prefer the higher quality. All right, let us import, but not that much. Forgive me for being honest, but you could not convince me that we have to stop importing the cheaper clay from Llamedos. There are people in the city that can't afford drinking their tea from a cup with such higher value.'

He stared at Marcus Treambody's face. He was listening, _really_ listening. Not like before, huddling in his chair, face down, ready to moist the floor. He was listening, he was answering Vimes's stare. With respect and higher spirits.

Vimes went slowly to his place, reaching for the paper at his front.

'We will buy a hundred thousand tones of the Maumee clay at the same value, let those people have better chance, after all we can afford some quantity of better class in a higher price. However, we have to continue the import of the Llamedos clay, it is important, you know, people should have a chance to choose. I will sign the contract as soon as you prepare the new numbers, let's say… how many was last year's import from Llamedos? One million tones, if I am not wrong. Therefore, this time it would be nine hundred thousand tones. Prepare the contracts and give them to me. I will sign them at once.'

Vimes stood up and walked to the door. Before exiting, he turned to the astonished looks of the party still sitting by the table.

'By the way I want to congratulate you all. This time you did really well, especially at the last hour or two. Good job!' He closed the door and smiled. There was no sound from the inside.

---

The Watch building was crowded again. Sergeant Collon tried to hide several times, but no use, Nobby knew all his secret places, although Collon was a man with big imagination in this specific task.

'Next!' shouted the sergeant, closing a file and opening a new one. 'What is it this time, Mr. Porkendome? Another compliant?'

'Sergeant, I want to claim my wife in her disrespect. Can you believe, she went to the Ladies Meeting yesterday, without even tell me. I want her apologize, but she says she wouldn't, because the sisterhood stand behind her…'

'Again?' Collon moved up and stared at his blank face.

'Oh, she and her little bitches have to pay for my late dinner. This time I want strict measures.'

'I told you already, Mr. Porkendome, I told you hundred times, the Watch doesn't do family things. Turn to someone else.'

'I already did. I complained to His Grace, but his answer did not suit me. I want _you_ to do something!'

'I told you, old man, the Watch has _no right_ to mess into the family life. I told it many times, I even asked Commander Carrot to write it personally. Look, the note is on the wall. Read it, Mr. Porkendome, and go home.'

'What about my dinner?' The man was pushed aside by the rest of the line.

'Make it yourself.' Added Collon with a luck of interest.

'_Myself_?' The man shrieked, puzzled over, staring at Collon's place, moving fast away from his sight. '_My own_ dinner?'

'Go _home_, Mr. Porkendome.' Shouted the Sergeant, while the crowd was pushing the sausage maker through the entrance door. 'Get your business and… just shut up. Next!'

Cheery passed by heading upstairs to Carrot's office. She went through the open door and saluted. Carrot lifted his head from his assembled desk close to the big one. He knew his exact place, he never rushed into someone's property, especially Commander's, I mean, Deputy Patrician's. Vimes's desk was cleaned, polished and remained that way. Cheery stared at Carrot's eyes and said:

'Deputy Commander, there is a letter for you from Deputy Patrician.' She handed him the paper, Carrot unfolded it and red.

'Another?' she shouted, lifting his amazed stare. 'It says I have to join another Guilds meeting.' He sighed deeply. 'And I have to obey, have I not? That is the ninth meeting this week. No wonder why Mr. Vimes was so irritated while His Lordship was here. Mmm… Do you know what, Cheery? I think you should… come with me this time.'

The female dwarf stepped back for a moment. 'No way, Carrot… I mean, Deputy Commander.'

'Why not?'

Cheery looked at his astonished eyes and felt the uneasiness growing. 'Because I have nothing to do with that stuff.'

'But you _are_ from the Watch, Cheery. Mr. Vimes might need another opinion for the task he is asking me to assist. You are a good policewoman; I can rely on your wisdom.'

'I still don't think I should join you, Sir.'

'Don't be silly, you have to come.' He smiled at her face. 'It might be interesting.'

'You already told me about what happened previous times, Sir.'

'And you still think it wouldn't be interesting?'

'I never said it wouldn't be interesting. I just said that the Palace is not the place I should be, Deputy Commander.'

Carrot burst into laughter and lifted up. 'Don't be stupid, Cheery. You suit anywhere in my opinion. After all I have to introduce you to your new duties.'

Cheery Littlebottom made a nervous step back, staring at Carrot's face. She swallowed hardly. '_What_ new duties?'

Carrot sat back, searching at his papers. 'Oh, yes, I nearly forgot. I thought I told you already…' He lifted a paper and handed it to the dwarf. She looked at it for a moment, then her eyes moved to Carrot's and back to the paper. She reached for it and red. 'Oh, Gods!' she shouted.

'Mr. Vimes wanted to give it to you a month ago, but you know Mr. Vimes, he is so preoccupied… So he transmits the pleasure to me.' He stood up, moved to Cheery's site, smiled happily, and shook her hand. 'Good job, _Senior_ Sergeant Littlebottom. You are heading the Criminology Department of Ankh-Morpork region. Welcome to the higher level.'

Cheery stared at the list at her hands, then to Carrots happy face. 'Me? A sergeant? Head of…'

'…Criminology Department of Ankh-Morpork region. Yes.'

She shimmered and stepped back again. 'I don't deserve it; you know I might not be able to do…'

'Don't criticize your self before starting, Cheery.' Carrot took her hand again and led her to the door. 'I know you will do your best for the job.'

'But…'

'And I am sure your Department will prosper under your lead.'

'I am not…'

'I will depart in an hour. I would like to see your new uniform, let Nobby loosen the depot strings, don't let him fool with you, I know what he is capable with.'

Cherry blinked nervously. 'New uniform?'

'And send Collon when you go down. I want him to make an official announcement.' He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled happily. 'Don't be worry, Cheery, you will do it fine, I am sure. All you have to do is the same as you did before. The difference is that the others should report to you. It's not quite different from the last few years, I suppose. Mr. Vimes and His Lordship were planning the extension for much longer than you think. The one who should lead the Department was only one. The best candidate we would ever have. Congratulations again.'

He pushed her through the door and went back to his sectional desk. Cheery stared at him for long time; he was too buried in his papers to know she was still there. The female dwarf stood for little bit longer, then she stepped to the stairway and slipped through the door.

She desperately needed a drink.

---

Dr. Loan's surgery was full again. Everyone in the city wanted a help, there were fingers pressed, heads hurt, many pregnant women waiting for their consultation and some seamstresses holding their numbered tickets.

Anne had to admit that Dr. Loan's practice was huge, she was prepared for this job, and she was even feeling quite happy doing it. Dr. Loan was a nice and peasant man with respect of people's life. She loved working for him, she did. He made her smile, he was telling jokes during the examinations, he laughed at her humour ability and he really liked her presence in his clinic. She was an educated nurse, she was well organized and she was the best assistant he would ever have. Well, she was his first assistant, as far as she knew he had no other helping hand before, so she did her best to make him happy with her being there.

The salary was not big, she admitted, but it was enough to make both ends meet. She was a woman get used with the rich people's habits. She needed more than going to work and then home afterwards. She needed to visit performances, to witness special occasions, to have other things done than work. Dr. Loan told her she is free to seek for part-time job; he even promised he would assist her in finding one.

The previous evening he said he found a good job to her and asked if she could work with children. She answered she used to be a part-time schoolteacher back in Prudence. He smiled at her and asked her to come earlier the next day. She woke up at seven, walked to the Clinic's grand façade and entered. Dr. Loan was not there, she knew he was in his doctor's round through the city each morning before noon. She sat in the waiting room, it was so empty, when no one screams, complains and groans. She put her face in her palm and tried to predict who would hire her and what kind of job would it be. She sighed and closed her eyes. She was a bit tired, last night she had to assist in a delicate liver operation taking more than three hours. When she came back home it was early in the morning. Nevertheless, Mrs. Verger was waiting for her; she was excused for her delay by Dr. Loan's coachman. Anne expected to see her furious but she wasn't. The first think Anne thought was how much he handed her to make her smile like that.

She opened her eyes. There was a man coming through the door. He was tall brawny man with red hair and watch uniform. She recalled his face; she met him once, in the pub at the Filigree Street. He looked at her and smiled generously.

'Dr. Loan said I have to come to introduce myself to my new baby-sitter' he said and stretched his hand. She stood up in a hurry, looked at him with a lack of understanding, but still shook his hand and smiled back. So, this was the job, and that is why he asked her if she knows how to treat children.

'I was told you are a skilled baby-sitter' he added, staring at her. She smiled slightly and replied.

'Actually I am a nurse.'

He looked at her reddening face and bowed to her eye level. 'But still can do with children?'

'Well, I had a small experience while I was in…'

'Good, then!' he leaded her through the door. 'I am Captain Carrot Ironfaunderson, I head the City Watch for some weeks, and I need a person to take care of my sons while I am at work. I guess I will not be misled by Lady Sybil's, or by Dr. Loan's glorifying words. I trust them and I suppose I could trust you. Don't I?

She looked at his face while he was leading her down the street. What could she say? '_No, Sir, I am a woman with no idea how to treat children, I was just a part-time teacher when I used to live in Prudence, I bred my four brothers but you can't count on that, I am just a little woman away from her milieu, with no money and self-respect, don't hire me, you will make a huge mistake_.'

She smiled at reply and followed him.

'My sons are wonderful, you will see it by yourself, they are quiet and well-mannered most of the time. Well, some subjects try to spoil them but as far as I could prevent it, I would do my best to oppose them. I work eighteen hours a day, but I need assistance for four hours, mainly in the morning, the boys have to be fed and nursed all the time. I am happy you are trained in health care, so I guess I could rely on you if something happens. Don't let anyone tell you what to do, I guess Nobby would mess your job all the time, my advise is to ignore him. He is a brave lad, but have too high opinion on his own abilities. And don't let Cheery or Collon interfere, they are too…'

She listened all the way to Eufrasia Street. Well, that was a hit, she lived in the same district, and Mormius Street she lived was not far. She could spent less time walking there. The house they stopped at was a small one floored building painted in light green, opposing the common grey around. Carrot let her in and closed the door at his back. Nobby' face showed behind the corner, observing the movement.

'Nobby, come here, I want to introduce you to someone.'

The little man obeyed, looking at them and back to the nursery room. Carrot presented Anne. 'This is the new baby-sitter I just hired.'

'Oh, that babe…'

'Nobby, don't push yourself' said Carrot with no interest. 'This is…' He looked at her. She added: 'Anne Frisky.'

'…Anne Frisky, she is a qualified nurse and she is a trained teacher too.'

Nobby lifted his hand; Anne stared at it, than to Carrot, he pushed her gently down the corridor. 'Don't worry, Miss Frisky, you will use to it' he whispered in her ear. 'Nobby is a good lad, he is a little bit pushy but if you are hard enough, he will settle down and maybe will take you as a friend lately.'

'Is he a gnome?' she asked turning back to see if he followed. 'No, he belongs to the human form society as you and me' answered Carrot, opening the door. He went in and stood by the cradle. 'These are my sons' he smiled and lifted one of them. 'This is Thomas, and that is Hedrick.' Anne looked at them separately, then reached and lifted the baby in her arms. It stared at her, then to his father's, muzzled and smiled. 'He likes you' added Carrot observing Anne's hold. She smiled back and shook the boy; it laughed and lifted his little hands to touch her cheek.

'When my mother died I had to look after my brothers' she gazed at the boy and sat at the chair nearby, letting him play with her braid hair tail. 'Peter was a baby when mom went to heaven, he was as small as Hedrick and Thomas, I recall his sweet face…' Her eyes darkened, Carrot put the baby in his arms back to the cradle and stepped closer. 'I will not ask what bothers you, I have no right to penetrate where I am not invited, but I see you are dealing well and I think I could trust you… Anne.' She stared at him, removing a tear from her eye.

'I would do my best, Sir' she answered.

'You can call me Carrot if you wish' he added, stared at her for long time and moved back, turning to the door. 'I have to go to work now, Nobby will come with me, he will not bother you, I promise. The kitchen is over there, the kids use to eat in every two hours, I have apple mash in the cooling box, just warm it a little bit, they like it colder, but I wish them eat worm food. If you need something, there are two dwarf families in the basement, they were informed for your presence and could assist you any time.' Carrot put his helmet on and rushed through the door. In a few seconds his head appeared back. 'I will be back at noon, you will be free to go to work then.'

He saluted slightly nervously and disappeared. She heard his voice, then Nobby's protests. The pen duel moved out soon, the door closed. Anne looked at the boys and smiled happily.

---

_I hope you will enjoy this part. Review, I need your oppinion._


	4. Part Four

**_BTK, this is for you. I think you would like it now._**

**_-------------------------------------------------------------------_**

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**The Choice**

**Part Four**

Lord Havelock Vetinari unfolded the newest clacks message. He gazed at the clock ticking at the passage by his bedroom; it was two in the morning. The Patrician of Ankh-Morpork looked in through the open door where his wife slept. He closed it slightly nervously, the door obeyed quietly, separating him into his own universe. He went to the study Stephen placed it his disposal and sat behind the oak desk. The clack message was by his agents, of course, letting him know what had happened while he was gone. Well, thought Vetinari, so that was the dog's bark, Rust insisted for 'strict measures' What he liked best was the sentence about 'the smashing blow against the unwelcome element, disgracing the city with his actions'. He looked up, smiling. He knew what would follow and he was sorry he was not there to see it all.

---

Lord Rodney Rust's office was a dark place, covered with dark brown woodwork, the same colour as the old-fashioned furniture placed there. A crowd gathered around the huge dark brown table, they were all listening to his monologue, faces down, thinking. What Lord Rust was saying was as stupid as ever, but there were some interesting points they couldn't just pass by. Commander Vimes's actions the last few weeks concerned them too. Each of them had to face his impudent eyes; every one of them had to say some words again the 'tyranny' he forced into the city. That was enough.

'Gentlemen!' cried Lord Venturii, bringing silence into the study. 'I don't think it would work.'

'Which one?' asked Lord Selachii.

'Everything' explained the lord. 'What we do now is just talking.'

'Do you have anything to propose?' Lord Rust's eyes shot at his side.

'Yes. I do.'

'Ha-ha-ha!' laughed Lord Selachii, his mouth full with the creamy muffins Lady Rust's cook had made for the meeting. 'Last time you proposed us something, we had to burry our heads in shame because of His Lordship's leave during the so called 'War' with Klatch.'

'I didn't expect His Lordship would have his own plans against the klatchians, actually no one of us had any idea he would do such things.'

'But he did, old man, he did.' Lord Selachii turned his stare away and made a face. Mr. Boggis cleared his throat in his attempt to hide his laughter. Lord Selachii stood up and made few steps away from the table, turned sharply and pronounced. 'I have an idea!'

Lord Rust turned his scared eyes to him. Lord Selachii was a brave man, he did everything to support it, but his bizarre way to make people understand that he is right, was too… how I could say it… unconventional and quite dangerous. He had odd ideas about anything, he did everyone around feel disastrously precautios. His mind had the leaden taste of a weapon of mass destruction.

He marched through the study, surrounding the table in his deadly circle. The men drew a long breath.

'I have an idea' he repeated, tapping his abnormally big nose. 'We could do a lot of the things we discussed, with bigger or lesser success, but what we could do better now is to consider how to get rid of that man _constantly_.'

'You know what fee his contract costs' protested Lord Downey, turning nervously in his seat. 'No one of us could afford it.'

'I know what his head costs, thank you for reminding me.' Lord Selachii stood behind Lord Rust's ancient chair. 'And I know how unsuccessfully your alumni were in the last ten years.' His eyes stubbed into Downey's rounding eyes and followed his mental lead. 'What I think would be best to do is _to act_ the way he could _never_ suspect.'

'Like what?' cried Lord Venturii, staring in his daring manner.

'Like making a laughing stock of him, of course.' He put his palms over Rust chair's back. 'We all know Vimes is a pride man. When we launch our offensive, he couldn't even suspect what we have on mind. However, it will grow, it will raise and soon Vimes will have no other choice but _to run to ground_.'

He looked at the faces around. They were lost in their thought. Everyone had an edge on Vimes. Every one of them had transferred some capitals into the Assassin's treasury at this time or another, complotting against their common enemy. While Vetinari was here, he was their object, now the Patrician was far away in Smaiil and what they had was another enemy in the Oblong office. 'Deputy Patrician'. Yeah, right… They all gave their words not to oppose His Lordship's choice; they all could put a hand on the heart swearing they are not opposing him even now. But they had _the right_ to protest against the Deputy's rule. What they wanted was peace and justice. No matter what the price was.

'I don't think we would succeed' sobbed Mr. Boggis. 'You know Vimes, he will turn the Disk around but he will revenge us all.'

'Don't be stupid, Boggis, he is just _a cop_!' scolded Lord Selachii.

'Indeed' cried Mr. Boggis again. 'Do you remember the last time? I had to put myself in a secret place to avoid his vengeance after that thing with the dragon.' He darkened and huddled up in his chair. 'I will not pass it again. No way, I am out.'

'Traitor!' cried Selachii and buried his eyes in his. Mr. Boggis lifted up from his seat and led off the study shame-faced. Lord Rust's angry stare followed him.

'Anyone else thinks he couldn't participate?' questioned Selachii, travelling his stare over the faces in the room. 'Good!' He sat at his place and murmured conspiratorially. 'I suggest us first…'

---

Anne looked at the clock in the passage. It was almost noon and Carrot was still gone. The children played in the living room, they ate half hour ago, and didn't want to sleep again. '_Boys'_ she thought and smiled at them. Hedrick stood up on his feet and walked to her, lifting his hands to her lap. She took him, hugged his little body and smiled. He returned with a grin, pointing his brother's attempts building a castle by the wooden cubes she obtained last week from the carpenter near her home. '_Architect_' she thought gazing at Thomas's delightful work. When the tower collapsed later, the boy lifted his head, bursting his teary eyes at her. She smiled at him; he smiled back and proceeded with his next project. Days before he used to burst into tears, but when he found out she would not help him at all, he learned how to hold his feelings and continue whatever he was doing.

Anne waited long time; it was almost one o'clock, when someone knocked at the door. She turned to it. Who could it be? Carrot never knocked, Nobby rushed through the door as it was not there, Collon entered silently despite of his huge gravitation, and Cheery always said 'Hallo! Is anyone here?' while opening the door. She came to the wooden gate, looked at the small peeping window and… saw no one. She opened the door nervously, looking through the hole. Yes, there was no one. She opened it widely, looked in around and mused. '_Those stupid children again_' she thought, closing the door angrily.

'Hi there!' The voice came at her feet. She turned her scared face, made a step back and fell on the floor.

'Be careful, lass!' The gnome jumped at her head, avoiding the last minute's hit. Anne looked at the small figure standing on her forehead and laughed in shock.

'Hi there!' repeated the gnome, waiving his hand at her gathered eyes. 'Carrot sends me to replace you, he is busy with Mr. Vimes right now, says he will be too long, no way to vanish, you know Mr. Vimes, he is a brave lad, but when he take it into his head, he makes a mountain out of a molehill when someone tries to take a French leave.'

Anne sat; the gnome jumped at her lap and started examining her critically. 'Yeah, good lass you are' he said, laughing up his sleeve. 'He says you are a nurse, here I have that eruption, it itches badly, old Barbette said I should treat it with that smelly liniment, but when I spread it itches even more badly. Why don't you have a look?'

He started stripping his coat; Anne tried to turn her head to avoid the scene, but suppressed her insatiable wish to look somewhere else. She made herself obeying her first-rate duty as a nurse. The gnome turned his little naked back at her, she looked fixedly at the spotty skin, even forced to touch it, with, believe or not, interest, and replied calmly, pulling his shirt down. 'Just a little tetter, nothing to worry about.' The seven-inch high man looked at her and smiled. 'You must have lived in a soggy environment' she added, while standing up. 'I would recommend you to smear your skin with Rosemary Vaseline, it will bite a little, but in a week the eruption will be gone. In addition, I highly recommend you to change your habitat. There are many not that soggy mouse halls in the city.'

The gnome looked at her with interest and burst into laughter. 'Yeah, he was right, you are brave lass!'

Anne observed the man for some seconds, until he calmed down. He watched her with interest, she watched him with no trust. He cleared his throat, stared at his own impish feet and said calmly. 'He said I could take charge over the children.'

'No!' she replied calmly.

He stared at her cool face for long time. 'But he said I could come here and…'

'No!' repeated Anne. 'There is no way I could leave the boys in the hands of such little man.'

The gnome looked at her rating her with his angry eyes. She added with a smile. 'They could smash you like a butterfly on a stone. No way, I wouldn't risk their and your life with such stupid decision.'

The little man stared at her eyes. No, she was not joking, it was obvious she was not joking at all. 'All right' he said 'but what would you do? Carrot is out, Nobby is in the Shades, ha-ha! Cheery is in Pseudopolis, Collon is on duty again… What choice do you have, but me?'

She didn't even blink. 'I have two choices' she said, staring at his little eyes. 'Choice number One: to excuse myself from the Clinic and stay here. Choice number Two: to take the children with me…'

'In the Surgery?' cried the gnome. 'With all those sick people around?'

'Most of them are not that sick' answered Anne thoughtfully. 'But… as I considered… you might be right…' She bit her lip and stared at the boys running after each of them. 'Dr Loan would fire me' she pronounced hardly. 'He will definitely fire me.'

The gnome jumped at the oak cabinet at her left. 'So, I guess I am your only choice?'

'No!' she cried and bent near his tiny face. 'But I could still use you.'

She moved to the children's playground, sat at the righting desk and took the quill from the inkpot. 'You could do a grate favour, my friend' she waved the paper to dry a little, folded it and handed it to the gnome. 'You could deliver this message to Dr Loan. I think he might understand me, if you hurry and catch him in his lazy mood.'

Buggy Swyers looked at the list, then at her eyes, at the paper again and smiled. He took the message, scrolled it and put it in his dirty grey rucksack.

'And after that you could come and play with the boys.' She added, smiling at him. The gnome grinned from ear to ear and nodded happily.

In few seconds, the eagle's wings spread along the Broadway's crowd.

---

The ambassador of Smaiil, Sir Thodeas Windswan Bryant de Panaretos burst into laughter, looking at the paper in his hand. The agent stepped at his other leg nervously looking at his master.

'Are you sure about that?' pointed His Excellency. The agent nodded. 'Well. It would be a splendid view. Are there tickets on sale?'

'As far as I know…'

'I am just joking, Mathew. Where will it be?'

The agent bit his lip and glanced at his front. 'My sources say it would be held on the Full Moon Plaza.'

Sir Thodeas burst into laughter again. 'Well, that would be a spectacle show. Does he know already?'

The agent nodded again. 'Lord Rust's attendant delivered the message half hour ago.'

Smaiil's ambassador giggled with satisfaction. 'I would give my both legs to see his face while reading this. No, I would give my both legs and my right arm to see his reaction. That would be such fun…'

The agent arched his eyebrows, imagining His Excellency cutting his…

'No, I would even give my both legs _and_ my both arms to see…'

---

When he red the note tied with the red ribbon, Vimes burst into laughter. He was at the end of his Watch meeting, when Drumknott whispered in his ear that there was a man at the door, pretending to deliver an urgent proclamation by Lord Rust. He interrupted Carrot's monologue and seated calmly in his chair. His Lordship's attendant marched officially to his desk and handed the scroll, then he saluted and turned to the exit.

'Well, that would be fun!' giggled Vimes and red the message again. 'Listen, Carrot, Lord Rust challenges me to a duel. Fencing!'

Carrot smiled for a second. He could never imagine Lord Rust go to a step like that. He was a respectable man, the general feeling was that he was a man of honour, a wise man, but that was… Well, he knew about his little argue with Mr. Vimes, but going so far… That was something new. A duel… of honour. He took the letter Vimes willingly handed him and red.

'Sir, it says _classical_ fencing' he uttered.

'Yes, Carrot, I red it already.'

'But fencing is…' he cleared his throat '…fighting with rapiers…'

'I know what it means, Deputy Commander' smiled Vimes.

'Excuse my interruption into your thoughts, but… do you know what rapier is?'

'Yes, it's a sword.'

Carrot sighed deeply. 'Not as such' he pronounced calmly. 'The rapier is a weapon with the same length, but is… a little bit… lighter…'

Vimes looked at him. Carrot's eyes were worried. Rapier… Yes, that stupid sissy knife the nobles use to cut themselves while showing their own pusillanimity. A knife… to make other sissy boys feel like losers… He burst into his thoughts. Carrot tried not to fasten his eyes into his face. Vimes nodded calmly. '_So… that was Rust's revenge_.' He thought. '_To make him look like a blockhead, standing there in everyone's sight at the Full Moon Plaza… To feel like a… sissy boy… a chuff with rapier in his clumsy hand_…' He shimmered.

'Carrot…' he pronounced thoughtfully.

Deputy Commander Ironfaunderson stretched in his front. 'Yes, Mr. Vimes!'

Vimes swallowed hardly. 'Could you get me… a fencing… rapier?'

'Yes, Sir!' saluted the young man.

'And…' Vimes looked at his torpid eyes. '…can you get me… a fencing teacher too?'

---

Lord Rust's attendant saluted happily and marched to the exit. His master turned to the nobles gathered in his study and smiled maliciously. He said nothing. And they replied nothing. There was no need. They tapped his shoulder and moved to the exit. The plan was in action, which was the most important thing for now. In a week Sir Samuel Vimes, the Duke of Ankh would drink from his own cup of disgrace. He made it himself. The arrogance was the first thing they couldn't forgive. The haughtiness was the other, followed by his idiotic behaviour, his ignorance to the higher class, his loftiness, his wish to rule over everything in his 'own city', his peacockery walking through the streets, his attempt to take over their legal right to say anything to any insolent peasant in the city where they have to rule without pushed to apologise afterwards! And finally, his present position, giving him the reins of Ankh-Morpork… Vetinari did his last mistake.

Vimes would pay. Oh, he would pay with his own disgrace. No one would ever look at him the same way. They would point him on the street, they would laugh at him, and even the children would make fun of him.

Poor little Sammy Vimes… Poor little Havie Vetinari. What would he be without him? He made Vimes, but Vimes made Vetinari too. Vetinari's terrier… Vimes's Patrician… Without Vimes as his strong hand Vetinari would be nothing, just a little tiny politician with no voice, with no wings, with no rule… Yes! Yes! That would be fun then…

---

Carrot went into his house. It was quiet outside. The rumours about Mr. Vimes's duel with Lord Rust flew over the city, the crowd raved for a couple of hours, it was a show after all. Some men of enterprise living on the Plaza started selling tickets for those who would like a better view. Nobby rushed to search for some, while they were cheaper and returned late at night. The darkness turned the city into a beehive, but even the bees go to sleep at some time at the night. It was two in the morning when he turned back home. The house was silent, no one moved. He went into the children's room. The boys were sleeping calmly, fitting tight to each other. Thomas was still hugging his wooden cube, Hedrick sucked his finger.

'Hi, boss!'

Carrot turned to Buggy's voice. He saluted slumberous, moved closer and jumped at the children's bed.

'They are angels, aren't they, boss?' smiled the gnome, pulling the green puffy blanket over Thomas's shoulders.

'Yes, they are…' thoughtfully pronounced Carrot, still gazing at his sons.

'They ate everything, even the potatoes and the carrots, boss.' said Buggy, leaving the room following Carrot's steps. He went into the kitchen. He stopped at the doorstep, speechless. It was not what he expected to see. He walked through the streets, imagining he would have to get down to work, cleaning after Buggy's mess. What he saw was the full opposite of his expectations. The table was cleaned and polished, the sink's bottom was clearly seen, there were no spots, no butter blots, no marmalade patches, not a pinch. Carrot gazed at Buggy walking on the shiny cooking range.

'You did well, Buggy' he pronounced dreamily. 'I am impressed.'

The gnome smiled, giggled and pointed at the door.

'Not me, boss. She did!'

Carrot stared at the corridor, moved through the doorsill and followed Buggy's jaunty stride. The gnome jumped at the door handle, pressed it with his weight and pushed through the living room. Carrot stood there, gazing at Anne's body, leaning on the old bottomless sofa.

'She said she wouldn't leave the boys at my care' whispered Buggy, sitting at the tiny coffee table at her legs. 'She sent me to the Surgery with a letter to Dr Loan and then she let me play with them.' He smiled happily and giggled at his late memories.

Carrot kneeled by the sofa, still staring at Anne's face. She was sleeping calmly; her hair was unbraid and falling over the pillow, her shoulders and her raising breasts. She was breathing quietly, her hand put on her breast moved, while she was inhaling and exhaling.

Carrot stared at her for long time, Buggy stared at him, then at her, and back at him, with his smile rising on his face. He stood still; he didn't want to spoil Carrot's concentration.

Carrot moved up slowly, went to the cupboard at his left, opened it quietly and removed a dark yellow blanket from there. He covered Anne's body, putting his attention at each inch it goes. Buggy observed it all with interest. He was seen that before. It was long time ago, but he recalled it. Carrot did his job, waved to Buggy to follow him and went silently to the door, closing it behind him.

---

_Guys, I expect your reviews. Like it or not? What would you like to read? I meat anyone's wishes, it seems I am in good mood this week..._


	5. Part Five

**The Choice**

**Part Five**

Pearce Betting glanced at the agents gathered in his office. Most of them were rag-tags, far too young and light years far from the professionalism he insisted in his inferiors. But there were rare finds amongst them, especially the short skinny lad named Arthur Marten, alias Butcher. He didn't have the hands of such, neither the absence in his small peeping eyes, but there was something in his look, in the way he held his hands, that made Mr. Betting, Smaiil's newest SIA1 director, hesitate if not to transfer him to THS, although the lad was too scared to be that kind of agent. There was something inhuman in his radiation, something Pearce couldn't ignore.

'Gentlemen,' welcomed Mr. Betting. 'Well done job, thank you for being fast and efficient. Now, let us all sit and discuss the situation.'

He pointed the chairs around conference table in the SIA's hearquarter's main staff hall. They sat nervously, watching Mr. Betting's moves.

'I red your reports' continued the Director thoughtfully. 'And I am very worried. What you claim bothers me a lot, I am sure His Majesty would be even more confused. Is it true?'

His blue stare nailed at the Head Staff Agent, Mr. Stratus Ardently, apparently his right hand. He coughed and moved his head down. 'We are absolutely sure, Sir, the data our lads gathered is telling enough. The Quartians _do_ organize an offensive, their army is almost at the border. I recommend…'

'I know what will you recommend, Stratus, I know what to do, but I am still jib at it… Too soon… Damn too soon…' He bent his head and leaned his arms on the nearest chair back. 'What are the reports from the surveillance?' he added, thoughtfully. Mr. Ardently opened the file in his front and said. 'Her Majesty was just doing… nothing special, actually. She visited some towns and villages, went twice in the Opera house, met ordinary nobles, ate a little, mostly fish; received some ambassadors – the themes were ordinary, really – get some presents: Agathean bracelet, Ephebian silver dish set, Klatchian carpet, some vases from Ubervald and Whatanicefiord, other trinkets from Genua, Borogravia and Ankh-Morpork… Nothing special.' He looked up following Mr. Betting's march through the hall. 'Lady Martha is the one I should speak for now. She met the Council… twice. What was told, we don't know, but we state that she is on the basis of the invasion.'

Mr. Betting sighed hardly. 'I predicted that' he said at himself, but the words slipped from his mouth. He squeezed his eyes, put a hand on his forehead and murmured anxiously. 'When would the offensive launch?'

Stratus Ardently looked down at the file, leafing through it and pronounced uneasily: 'Two weeks from now, Sir.'

Pearce knitted his eyebrows. '_Two weeks from now_, he thought. _Two weeks… What day is it today? Hmm… Quart's national holydays… Damn_!' He looked up. The agents followed his face, trying to read his thoughts. It was not easy, Pearce Betting was well trained agent. He stared at Butcher's direction. He was senseless, torpid and silent as ever, but there was something in his eyes the SIA director couldn't miss.

Mr. Betting marched to his desk, sat calmly and pronounced pitiless: 'Thank you for coming, gentlemen. I will speak to His Majesty at once. I want to have you in the city so don't launch any recent trips. Mr Ardently, may I ask you to stay here until I go back? It will take a minute. You too, Mr. Marten.'

The Butcher glanced at his commanding officer, then to Mr. Betting's direction. He sat back in his place, looked at the watch in his pocket and sighed jumpy.

---

The Deputy Patrician red. That was a part of his temporary job he really hated. The reports he red early in the morning, now was the time of the denunciations. He couldn't believe there were so many people hating their neighbours, colleagues, friends, family members even. The last letter was by someone called Mr. Genial. Vimes smiled at his signature, it was too… disparate from the content of his… report. What Mr. Genial wanted was arresting someone called Mr. Fabians Medora, hairdresser in Moon Pond Alley, not far from Scoon Avenue, where his home was. He didn't know the man, Sybil insisted Mr. Sampan's services, nevertheless Sir Samuel never liked the way he cut his hair. He used to go to Peter's barbershop while he was still an ordinary cop. That man knew how to hold the scissors, but not that made him Vimes's favourite leisure place. Old Pete knew how to make him smile. Mr. Sampan never talked more than 'Turn your hear, Your Grace' or 'Stay still, Your Lordship'. That man had no sense of humour. He had to take some lessons from Pete, that was sure.

So, thought Vimes, this is what Vetinari usually does in the morning, checking the daily mail… What a job… Drumknott came at six in the morning, astonished by Vimes's appearance, and put the mail on his desk. He made him company for couple of hours, mostly listening and scribing something in his notebook. His presence made Vimes a little nervous, because the secretary always stood behind his back, Vimes hated that, he believed that there should be only wall behind him, not a short young man with little round glasses on his nose. He tried to notice it many times, but it looks like there were some things Drumknott's ears let through.

'And this is Mr. Boggis's letter we received just now' said the clerk, putting an envelope in his sight. Vimes made a face. Head Thief's letters were accustomed to him, he only wrote how unpleasant it was for him to find out that some of his trainees were put in the dungeons of the Watch's stations around the city. He never wrote anything more understandable, his letters were in his stilted style, saying nothing more than the last time. Vimes unfolded the letter and put his bored eyes in it. The first sentence hit him.

'_Please burn this letter, because we are both in danger…'_

He looked at Drumknott's face, then he glanced at the letter again. At the end of the letter he crushed the paper in his hand and stood up. Well, that was something new. He actually knew some details, but it made a big impression that Mr. Boggis stood against his eternal mates. That was something original… He confirmed what Vimes was afraid from.

The clerk watched His Grace walking to the fireplace, his face said nothing, but he was worried. Vimes was unpredictable man, a man that could do anything anyway anyhow and anytime. No one knew what the Duke of Ankh would launch next, maybe Vetinari was the only person, knowing Sir Samuel well enough not to feel threatened. Vimes stood a little while glancing the fire, then he went back and sat calmly. He had that strange countenance on his face again, what made Drumknott make a step back. Vimes took a quill, wrote something and put the list in a drawer underneath.

'What is the next, Politus?' asked Vimes. Drumknott shivered. Sir Samuel never called the name he was accustomed through the city, he knew his birth name somehow and named him each time they were left alone. That made Politus Brent, known as Rufus Drumknott, His Lordship's head assistant, shiver every time. He guessed Vetinari also was aware of it, but he never used it against him. Not like his deputy.

'There are some requests and complaints, sir' added Drumknott with a pale face. 'His Lordship used to…'

'Yes, I know already' sighed Vimes and rounded his eyes. 'His Lordship use to read them in the afternoons, I was informed already, thank you for reminding me. I don't want to oppose His Lordships habits, but the fact that he is _not_ here makes it easier, don't you think so? So, let's do the dirty now, I can't wait to see what the city's best part want to tell against me. Now…' he unfolded the first envelope. 'The Potter Guild's President says he hates the new parking places on Broadway. Well, what he wrote in his previous letter? Don't remind me. He hated the gargoyles on the his Guild's roof, didn't he? The answer is the same, Politus.'

'When the sun comes on tea party in Scoon Avenue, Milord?'

'Exactly.'

'The next is from Lord Venturii, Sir.' Drumknott put another letter in his front.

'Again?' stared Vimes. 'I red one of his yesterday.'

'I'm sorry, sir.'

'Don't be, my friend. Now what is it about?' He unfolded the letter. Drumknott already scribed the expecting answer, when he heard something very alarming. He heard nothing. Vimes stared at the paper, there was a smile on his face, but different kind of smile. He made a step back. As far as he knew Sir Samuel, that was a distress signal for something very unpleasant in someone's nearest future. He looked at him again. Vimes's face changed several times, as he was thinking many nasty things.

'When did this come, Politus?' asked His Grace, standing up and marching to the heather again.

'Early this morning, Milord' answered Drumknott swallowing uneasily.

'Are there any others from the nobilities in your pile?' asked Vimes. Drumknott rummaged through the letters in his hands.

'Lord Pilken-Trumbens…' red Vimes. 'Lord Kaka-Navvy… Lord De Burgh… Oh, even Lord Downey…' He sunk his eyes in the writings, reading and smiling again. Then he gathered most of the letters and went to the fireplace, threw the papers in and watched them burn with interest. He turned back and what Drumknott saw was a face quite familiar.

'Is there something wrong, Milord?' he forced himself to say. Vimes looked up, with no expression on his face.

'No, Politus, everything is in order, as far as I know. Why?'

Drumknott tried to avoid Vimes's stare.

'Just asking, no reason' swallowed the clerk with difficulty. He came to his senses as fast as he could and pronounced quietly: 'I would like to remind you about the following meeting with the Folk-Dances Committee, and Deputy Commander Ironfaunderson is waiting outside.'

'Let Carrot first, Politus' answered Vimes without lifting his head from the papers he started to read. 'Tell the Folk Bullshits I would like to put off the meeting for an hour. No, let them know I will accept them later on… Wait, say them… Say them nothing. Let them wait.'

Drumknott sighed quietly, bowed and turned to the exit.

---

Carrot saluted and went out of the Oblong office. Drumknott followed his pace through the corridor, sat in his previous place, looking at the men, sitting nervously on their places. He sighed again and waited. The bell rang shortly after ten in the morning. The delegation went through the door, in fifteen minutes they all exited anxiously, hurrying to go as far as they could. One of them glanced at Drumknott's direction. His eyes said a lot.

The Head clerk run his hand over his face, stood up and went into the Patrician's office. Vimes sat in his chair, smoking at the large open window.

'There are some new reports, Mi…'

'Down!' cried His Grace and pushed the man aside. A strange sound went into the chamber, Vimes pulled Drumknott's arm and pushed him through the open door.

'What happens, Your Grace?' moaned the secretary, coming to his senses, trying to push Vimes's heaviness aside. Vimes groaned, lifted somehow and stretched to help the young man. He took his hand.

'What happens, Mr. Vimes?' repeated Drumknott, glancing through the semi-closed door. What he saw was smoke and dust, falling over his face.'

'Ephebian fire' said Vimes, dying out the flames in his jacket.

'Ephebian what?'

'Fire, Politus' repeated Sir Samuel. 'Ephebian fire. The most extinguished weapon in our days. Fast, efficient, deadly… Extremely clever machine, indeed. Quite expensive, anyway.'

Drumknott looked at his front where the dust had settled down, and saw the desk, the chairs, everything in there melting… The place he was few seconds before was turned into a babbling spot. He shivered in shock, looked at his master, then back to the room and felt something. He was scared to death, his eyes watered at the scene at his front, he turned and stared at Vimes.

'Ttthatt wasss…'

'_No comment, _Drumknott!' added Vimes with no feeling on his face, neither his voice. 'Inform the carpenter I would like some refreshment of the office as soon as possible.'

Drumknott's astonished stare didn't move.

'Until everything is ready I will be in the Throne hall.'

'Yesss… ssirr…' blinked Drumknott.

'And tell the fencing master I will delay the lesson with couple of hours.'

'Yess, sir.'

'Go tell the housekeeper I would like some tea, please.'

Drumknott's eyes followed Deputy Patrician's march through the corridor. He stepped back and almost tripped on his chair, sitting torpidly.

'Yes… Sir…'

---

Lord Havelock Vetinari was in King Stephen's office when he received the urgent message from Ankh-Morpork. He excused himself and burst into his temporary study.

So, thought Vetinari, that was it… He moved to his desk, opening the highest drawer, where he held his righting tools. He wrote some sentences, looked at them critically and crushed the paper in his hands. It was not Rust's job, he thought, that man would never go so far. Nor the rest of the nobilities, as far as he knew the Assassin's Guild had his contract frozen for years, he knew there would be no one wealthy enough to pay the fee for his head.

He sat at his chair and gathered his palms in front of his lips.

Who would that be then? There must be something really wrong in the city, because Sir Samuel hadn't met an assassin for long time. Who could that be? It must be some foreign hand involved, otherwise it had no sense. The Klatchians? Well, he knew what had happened with the sand contract, but it was quite impossible, actually. Why should the klatchians go so far? For a contract so insignificant? No… He knew the Klatch emperor, he was too far from such sporting act, he also used to like Sir Samuel, he was the actual cause for his recent position. And Samuel Vimes had some high-standing _friends_ in Klatch which would warden him beforehand.

It must be something…

He knit his eyebrows. There was a knock at the door. He looked up, watching his wife entering. Lady Antonia moved closer, rounded his chair and stood by the window, speechless. He observed her face. She was worried. She should be. The last events made them all more or less troubled. He stood up, stood behind her, pressing his arms around her waist. She shimmered, looked up and whispered.

'What a vileness, isn't it?'

He stared at the direction she was staring. The rooftops of Smaiil's capital were fuming, the snow flew down, sticking at the window outside. They stood in silence for some minutes, then she separated from his hold, sat in a chair near the window and sighed deeply.

'I have to leave you…' she said. 'For a couple of days.'

Lord Vetinari already knew that when Stephen asked for his presence while discussing the situation with his counsellors. He begged for his advise, although he didn't actually pronounced the words. Vetinari was not surprised. He expected it for long time, since Queen Germana's crowning. He knew she couldn't do it herself, he always thought she hadn't the political mind, required for such manoeuvre. But she was stupid enough to let other people think in her instead.

The ruler, he thought, should be precautious enough in his or her encirclement. There was something he red while he was a boy, an ephebian wise saying, he forced to remember and follow in his life. 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies even closer… He knew who the ruler's friends were – his family. Each other person was an enemy. He followed the principal during his whole life and it saved his life many times.

'I understand' he pronounced uneasily, standing at her back. 'You have to protect your country from its biggest mistake. I do understand.'

She looked up to meet his eyes. He frowned and moved to his desk, sitting with anxious sigh. She bent closer to his chair, moved his arm away and sat in his lap. She was worried enough to tell nothing, he was irritate enough to follow her mode.

'I will be gone for a couple of days, I promise' she said, putting her head on his shoulder. Vetinari looked at her pate for a while, then he lifted her hand and kissed her warmly.

'Please, do be careful' he pronounced uneasily. 'How many people would you take as your companions?'

She sighed deeply, closed her eyes and remained calm for a while.

'None.' she answered. Vetinari stood calm for a second, then he lifted her head to his face and burned her eyes with his anxious look. 'None?'

'I will not need them, they will only impede me.'

'Have you lost your mind?' cried Vetinari.

'No, I haven't' answered Antonia calmly. 'This is the only way to reach where I want to. Don't oppose me. It is already decided.'

She stood up slowly and moved to the door. Vetinari grabbed her arm, while she was reaching the door handle.

'You _can not_ stop me, Havelock!' Her eyes shot him with her solid steel green stare. 'If you try to put someone behind me, I will know and will do _anything_ to get rid of him… or her.' She gazed at his direction for some minutes, her eyes burned his face with their calmness and unpredictable strength. He frowned at her, downed his eyes and sighed deeply. In a few seconds he nodded uneasily, glancing at her imperturbable face. She looked at him for a while, then she lifted up to kiss him and went out of the study.

Lord Vetinari returned back in his chair, opened the highest drawer and drew a new paper. In two minutes the courier's horse rushed through the crowd, turning to the nearest clacks tower.

---

1 SIA – Smaiil's Intelligence Agency


	6. Part Six

**The Choice**

**Part Six**

It was hard to believe what had happened to Sir Samuel Vimes. Lord Rodney Rust was rigid with it all. His informers described him the situation about the incident into the Oblong Office. I mean, _former_ Oblong Office. There was not much left from the furniture. The walls were the only thing still standing. The desk, the chairs - everything was gone, melted, not existing any more. Lord Rust felt some guilt, although he had no fault in what had happened. But he was self-delusional man, he believed that his deep thoughts including Sir Samuel's determination had materialized somehow, nevertheless the Commander's death was far of his original idea. Someone had done it, someone who had the audacity to provoke the reality, to oppose the city's well being and to slap the man in his face. More than that, one had made something more. One had found a better place to strike against Sir Samuel's life. With Hershebian fire.

He had no eyes to look at Sir Samuel's face. Some hours ago he was flattered by the idea that his opponent was paying a fencing master to teach him how to be a gentleman. Days ago he was in rage because the same man showed no respect in his presence. Now he was anxious because someone else tried to take his life. The one that should do it must be some very well trained assassin, engaged by no one but Lord Rust. The man was angry because he knew what was happening in the city the last few years, he was irritated because he knew what significance had Sir Samuel for the city. And mostly, he was annoyed because _he_ was not.

Lord Rodney Rust looked at the rapier in his lap. He took the cleaning rag, moistured it with the polishing liquid and caressed the steel blade. It sang. Since he came back from the military school he had no time left to spend with his favourite business. When he inherited his father's title he had no time left for anything that made him a little bit happy. He had to manage his domain, his fortune, his friends' circle, which made him aware of anyone, especially those very close to him. Lord Rust had no trust in anyone, even his wife. He had no time left to be only Rodney. Unfortunately he faced the reality of being Lord Rust too soon. Even though Lord Rust was just a little boy with a rapier in his lap.

He smiled at the blade and in his imagines it smiled back.

---

Lady Sybil received the news about her husband calmly. It was not the first time when someone tried to attempt his life, nevertheless she went into her small boudoir, gently closed the door behind her, went to the large ragged armchair and sat, clumsy, pressing her eyes with her both hands. She knew Samuel Vimes, he was not a man to stay and watch how his name and his actions were being scoff at. He was a man with many loyal friends, but he also had many loyal enemies. She tried not to cry, but unsuccessfully. She moped her eyes with her violet handkerchief, thinking for some minutes, then she stood up slowly, walked to the mirror at the wall, observed herself for some seconds and pressed the door handle at her left. She gazed at the large empty corridor, squeezed her eyes anxiously and walked down the stairs, where the food deliverer was still standing. She had a lot of work to do, there was no time to worry about Sam. She had to prepare the ball for tonight. There were only four hours left and she irritated the stuff enough to continue with herself. She would take care of it lately.

There was a noise coming from downstairs. Lady Sybil rushed to meet her husband. He undressed his burned clothes, taking the new jacket and trousers from Willikins's hold.

'O, dear!' cried Lady Sybil, hugging him tide. 'I was so worried. What happened?'

Sir Samuel lifted his shoulders with a sigh.

'Nothing unusual, dear. Just a little Ephebian fire.'

'A little?' Sybil examined the ruined jacket. 'It doesn't look like little for me.'

'Well, if I have to be honest, I didn't expect this, but it happened anyway, I know you often tell me what I get is because I deserve it..'

'Not that one, Sam!' cried Sybil. 'Ephebian fire? Isn't it too much?'

Vimes looked at his wife and sighed deeply. 'I confess Ephebian fire is extravagantly, but I guess I deserved it somehow.'

Sybil crossed her arms in her front, staring at him with a desperate eagerness. 'And what are you doing for this all, Sam?'

The duke of Ankh sat at the nearest armchair, correcting his shirt buttons.

'I already _chatted_ with the Head of the Armourers Guild. Unfortunately Mr. Burley doesn't have any idea how this weapon appeared in the city' his eyes squeezed with a tense delight. 'But soon _he will_, believe me.'

Lady Sybil looked at him again, discovering there was a part of the old Samuel Vimes she knew, his face was the same as in his old days, while solving the tiny problems they had in Ubervald and Koom valley. She relaxed a little, grabbed his hand and smiled gently.

She said nothing. It was obvious he wanted to be left alone for some minutes, to oversee and evaluate what had happened. She smoothed his bushy hair, pressed a kiss on his forehead and burst out of the room.

---

Captain Carrot was nervous, when he went through Dr Loan's clinic gate. He had no chance to meet Anne since the night a week ago. When he woke up the next morning she was gone, there was a note on the table next to the steaming coffee pot and the sandwiches. She had a call from Dr Loan earlier informing her that there was a flue epidemic in Pseudopolis. She had to fulfil her duty and she did.

'How can I help you, sir?' welcomed the woman on the desk at the far end of the waiting room. Carrot removed his helmet, cleared his throat and nodded back.

'I would like to see miss Anne Frisky.'

The woman smiled, stood up slowly and pointed the seats at her left.

'Get a number, young man.'

Carrot arched his eyebrows. 'Excuse me, I didn't understand.'

The woman showed the rolled tape at her desk. Carrot stared it for a while, soon he looked at the receptionist smiling, reached for the tape and teared out a little numbered peace of it. He sat at the only empty place, between the milkman and the large troll. The stone man looked at him for a second, looked down at his hand, then at his steel breastplate. He opened his mouth, considered something else, then opened it again and spoke with his mountain voice:

'You are Captain Carrot, aren't you?'

Carrot glanced at him, sighed deeply and added: 'Yes…'

'You are a guardian, aren't you?'

'Yes…'

'And you have a 'nife?'

Carrot looked at him. The troll must have just come from the mountains, because he still had lichens on his surface.

'Yes. I have a sward.'

'Give me' said the troll. Carrot stared sharply. 'No way!'

The troll sighed with disappointment. 'No one wants to give me any.'

He downed his stony eyes, shrank and sighed. Carrot looked at him, he was really desperate to ask for his sward. Trolls don't use swards, they are like toothpicks in their fingers.

'Why do you need my sward?' asked Carrot still looking at his deformed face. The troll pointed down.

'B'couse of that!'

The watch looked at his leg. There was some movement at its end, just by his ankle. Carrot squeezed his eyes to discern the grey figure sank at the grey stone.

'A gnome?' laughed Carrot.

'Yeah, dirty smelly gnome! People haf to watch where they step here, you know. One step aside and watch this!'

The gnome lifted his eyes to face Carrot's stare.

'Hy, caphthain!'

'Oh!' almost screamed Carrot. 'You are one of Buggy's?'

'Yeth, thir.'

'What happened?' said the man moving down to face the little body.

'Thith idioth thrieth to thteph on 'e, thir.'

'And you bit his leg?' smiled Carrot. The gnome tried to smile, but unsuccessfully. He lifted his eyebrows instead. 'Phrothection reacthion, you know' answered the little man. 'Ththuphid theeth ththuck on hith footh. I can'th moof.'

'Did you try to…?'

'Yeth, I did. Why do you think I a' here?'

'I see…' answered Carrot, lifting up to his seat.

'I tried all' said the troll, moving his leg up and down, desperately trying to get rid of the object in his ankle. 'No use, you know. Then I hear my cousin Brick, he said I go to miss Anne. She will fix it. But I don't haf money, and that thing don't wont to go away, that scrap thing!'

He moved his leg viciously, the gnome answered with a deep bite, then they both started dancing in circles, pushing everyone around. Carrot watched with interest. He never had the chance to watch a troll dancing. Soon he sighed, lifted slowly from his seat intending to stop it all. He made a step at the troll-gnome union direction, but stopped, because the door at his left opened.

'What happens here?' shouted Dr Loan.

The troll stared at him - a bad move, as it appeared. Trolls don't have to pay a full attention aside while they are dancing so viciously. He crossed his legs, faltered and fell on the floor, making abnormally stressful noise. Dr Loan smiled for a second, turned back his head and said. 'Anne, there is one of yours.'

Anne Frisky moved from his behind, smiling at the scene, drew closer, observed the situation for some seconds, then she kneeled, put her fingers at the gnome's shoulder, moved it a little bit down. Her finger moved fast, the gnome giggled, she continued tickling his armpit. The giggle raised richer, the little body twisted several times, then the gnome's voice started climbing.

'Stop it, please!' shouted the little man. He tried to separate from her finger, but soon he understood he was the one holding it. He looked at the finger, then to Anne's smile, down to the troll's foot and soon he laughed himself. 'Well, that was fast!'

Anne put her hand on the floor, letting him step on it.

'Thanks, miss Frisky!' said the troll, lifting up, gazing at the gnome at his feet. 'My cousin was right, you really is good woman, I know who to look for if I step a gnome agaiin.'

'Don't even try, idiot!' shouted the little man from below.

'Little mouse catcher!' shouted the troll. 'I'll get you some day!'

'I'll be first, Stonehenge!' answered the gnome, crushing his jaw.

'You, tiny… umm… tiny thing!'

'Stones!'

'Midget!'

'Mountain!'

'Minikin!'

'Range bareer!'

'You…'

'Stop, please!'

They both turned at the direction of the voice shouting. Anne's arms crossed at her front, she was looking annoyed.

'I'm sorry, miss Frisky' said the troll. 'I am such a stone!'

'I'm sorry too, miss Frisky' added the gnome.

Anne looked at them, first up, then down. She unfolded her arms, sighed deeply and said calmly: 'Are you both alright?'

'Yeah.'

'Yes, thank you, miss Frisky.'

'Then I have to tell you have a nice afternoon.'

The gnome bowed politely, smiled at her and moved closer. 'I owe you, miss Frisky. Anything anytime!' he bowed again and turned to the exit. The troll looked down to her face, his eyebrows squeezed nervously. 'I haf no money, but I can give you one of my tooths.' He thrust his hand into his mouth.

'No, no, please!' protested Anne, trying to stop him. The troll removed her gently, put his arms by his front and bowed slowly. 'I owe you too, miss Frisky. I haf no money to gif, but I am a troll of honour and I gif you my word as a gent… gentl… as a troll, that I will pay you back some day. I promis.'

He turned to the door. Anne sighed, closed her eyes for a second and turned to the surgery room. She stepped at Carrot's hope-pole.

'Oh, hallo, Mr. Ironfaunderson' she said, smiling. 'How are the boys? I haven't seen them for so long…'

Carrot cleared his throat, fixing his gaze at her.

'They are fine' he pronounced nervously. 'How is the epidemic solved there in Pseudopolis?'

Anne lifted her shoulders. 'Seventeen dead, unfortunately, but they had no chance. When we arrived they were at the final phase. How unfortunate…'

Carrot stared at her for longer. When he came to his senses, he pronounced slowly: 'I would like to thank you for that day. I hope it didn't cause any troubles.' He looked at Dr Loan's smiling face at her back. The old man shook his hand and lifted his eyebrows. 'I also wanted to… I wanted…' He cleared his throat again, stepping nervously from leg to leg. 'You know there is a Watch ball at Mr. Vimes's estate tonight.' He looked at her watching him with interest. 'I was wondering if you would like to… to be my… my… partner for tonight.'

Anne opened her mouth to answer, but Carrot was too fast.

'I have no intention, I just need someone to come with, everyone I know would come with a partner, I thought it would be far of politeness to come all by myself. I thought who could I invite, but as far as I know all women I know would be there, so I thought that you might be my only chance not to make a wrong impression. If you don't want to come, I will understand, I know how busy you are. Dr Loan needs you all the time, so I guess I shouldn't come. Forgive me for the inconvenience, i will leave now. I'm sorry again.'

Carrot stopped his tirade to take a deep breath and started to turn back.

'I will not need you this evening, Anne.' said Dr Loan at Anne's back. 'I am quite tired after Pseudopolis, I think I should have a rest tonight.'

Carrot stared at Dr Loan's direction, then his stare moved to Anne's face. She smiled tenderly.

'I would be honoured' said Anne, stepped at his direction, but soon stopped worriedly. 'What about the boys?'

'Don't worry about them' sighed Dr Loan. 'I will watch them.'

'Really?' Anne turned slowly. 'I thought you didn't like children!?'

Dr Loan's eyebrows arched, showing his most surprised look. 'Why do you think so? I _love_ children!'

'Two weeks ago when we visited Lady Cheerfield's children for their monthly check, I clearly recall you said…'

'I would never say anything like that!' jittered the old man. 'I was just indignant at people's way to treat their children like…'

'You said she was spoiling them so much that some day they would overturn the city upside down.'

'I did _not_…'

'And when I said that you might not be right you answered that…'

'It has no meaning now, Anne. I _love_ children.' he came closer, fixing his eyes at her. 'I really love them, believe me, I do.' Dr Loan looked at Carrot's direction. The Captain was having fun, staying a few steps aside, crossing his hands at his back, smiling. 'Now, you see, I will take care of the twins, so your problem is solved. Captain?'

'Yes, sir?' almost saluted the watch.

'Get that girl out this evening.'

'Yes, sir!'

'Take care of her, don't overtire her, she needs a little rest, I guess I pressed too much from her lately.'

'Doctor?' smiled Anne.

'I do confess I wanted too much from you, Anne.' answered the old man. 'I believe you deserve a rest from my presence, I guess tonight will be good for you. Go, have fun, relax, and I guess tomorrow was your free day… Then, I guess I'll see you on Monday.'

'But, Dr…'

'No argue, young lady. Go now; I will not need you any more today.' He lifted his hand. 'Do whatever young ladies do – go to a hairdresser, buy some dress, I guess I could give you a bonus to your salary this month. You did a good job, I am proud with you.'

He looked at her, smiling happily. Anne removed her stare from his eyes to gaze at Carrot's. He smiled at her, took her hand and led her to the exit.

---

The night was on the door, Death looked at her face and tried to smile. The Night answered with no voice. She didn't have vocal cords, she was talking with her hands.

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY, said Death.

The Night shook her head.

IS THIS TRUE WHAT YOU JUST SAID?

The Lady confirmed slightly irritated. Death looked at her hands. She was giving him some signs. He red it quite fast.

THE LADY DID? IS IT ALREADY TIME? I THOUGHT THE REINCARNATION WILL TAKE SOME MORE CENTURIES…

The Night lifted her shoulders, her face smiled for a second, then she made a little gesture with her fingers and dispersed into the still air in Death domains. The skeleton watched the place she was standing for some seconds, then he sighed deeply, stretched his hand aside. The scythe appeared in his hold, he looked at it, in a hostile manner, then sighed again, this time with unpleasant voice. He went into the house, rushed to the Sandglass hall, moved through the rows and stopped in front of a huge shelf going up into the eternity.

He stretched his bony hand, where a little hourglass appeared. He was absolutely sure it was not there before. He looked at it, it was sparking. The sand on its bottom messed slowly, there was no sand in its top. Death stared at the silver base where the name label was. Its letters moved slowly, some parts of them still holding their places. Death was sure whose hourglass it was, he knew every hourglass in all universes. He sighed deeply, put the hourglass back on its place and puffed annoyed.

NOW THIS… SOON I MIGHT REPLACE THE TOOTH FAIRY…

He looked at the shell where the glass was standing. It moved a little, then slightly turned by itself, letting the sand start running through the little hall. It trickled poorly, he heard the cry coming from the deep behind of the universe. The baby was born, he knew that because the sand was spouting already. The label on the hourglass's bottom changed again, this time he could read the words. He smiled slightly irritably, then he sighed with relief, moved through the shell and went out of the Sandglass hall.

I TOLD YOU WILL BE SURPRISED WHEN YOU REBORN, said Death like to himself, looked around to see where he was standing. The silver label turned into gold, a small crown appeared on its top. There were two still words on its beginning, not changing their position. The rest gathered beside them forming the name 'Annabelle Marmora '.

---

Lady Antonia washed her hands and looked at Bettina's side. King Stephen was standing by her bed, holding his newborn daughter.

'She is beautiful, dear. Thank you!'

He pressed a kiss at the baby's forehead, then he took his wife's hand.

'She is beautiful, indeed' said Bettina, looking at his hold, where the girl crowed. 'I think I will call her Annabelle, what do you think, dear?'

Stephen smiled, looked at the baby, pronouncing the name with satisfaction.

'Annabelle… Wonderful name for the future queen of Smaiil.'

Bettina looked at her mother, Antonia smiled. She was delighted. Annabelle was her mother's name. Bettina made a gesture, she wanted to make her happy, although she already did, giving Lady Antonia her first grandchild. She looked aside where Lord Vetinari was standing. His smile was hard to see, but he was smiling. He walked to his wife's side, pressing a tender kiss on her left hand. Bettina observed with satisfaction. Vetinari moved to the bed where Stephen was holding the child, walked around him and stared at the baby. It stared him back.

'Would you like to hold her?' asked Stephen turning his folded arms to his direction. Antonia smiled nervously and walked out of the room. Vetinari stared at her direction, answering quite thoughtfully. 'I don't think I could manage this…'

Bettina smiled at him, lifted up to sit and waved him tenderly. 'Go on, Your Lordship. The baby will not bite.'

Vetinari looked at her, then to the baby and extended his hands, where the little one was put.

'Just hold the little head steady' advised Bettina, watching his nervous movements. 'You will have to get used to it. Some day you might have your own children.'

Vetinari gazed at her questionably. He knew she knew what had happened between him and Antonia some months ago, he knew she knew they were having love almost each night since then, Antonia had the bizarre habit to cry aloud, and their bedroom was on the same floor as the Royal one.

Yes, there was a chance to have a child. But Antonia was very precautious, she made him understand that there will be no offspring in their relation. He was puzzled over her divided behaviour. While she was in his bed she was gentle and passionate, but when they were in people's vision she was as cold as ever. She was such a mystery. While they were talking about people's children her eyes sparkled, but when there was even a rudiment of their future parentality she was explicit enough.

Stephen watched his daughter for some more seconds, then he bent to kiss his wife and went out of the room. Bettina watched Vetinari's hold. The baby fell asleep and that was a big pleasure for the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork. He used to irritate people, not make them asleep with a smile.

'So, she is leaving?' asked Bettina, still observing him.

'Unfortunately, she doesn't want to listen.' answered Vetinari. 'She wants to go there by herself.'

Bettina sighed and took the baby he put in her arms. 'You have to get used to it.' she answered, 'My mother is doing some things better when she is alone.'

'I already saw it.'

She looked at his pale face. 'You must know something about my mother.' She put the baby aside, covering it with its white feathery blanket. 'She does many things we all couldn't understand, but she does it because she has her reasons. You know, Amazons are women living too long without someone by their side. My mother belongs to De Constar's kin, all De Constar were educated from birth to be strong independent women. She has her reasons not taking anyone with her.'

'Such as?'

'Such as the troubles she would have while protecting her companions from the dangers of Quart.'

'Many dangers could be surmounting with a little help.'

'But some couldn't. And my mother is going there where she could surmount the difficulties by herself.'

'Quart?'

'Indeed. Quart is not a place for a man, especially one that doesn't know what to do if dozen Amazons appear in his front, asking for his permit papers. My mother was born there, she knows what to do in any circumstances, believe me. She is still a general in Quart's army, she is regarded with favour from both army and society. If she get someone with her, especially someone unknown with strange behaviour, she would just provoke their curiosity that will definitely lower her efficiency.'

Vetinari thoughtfully downed his head.

'I still think she is taking unnecessary risk.'

'Of course, she does.' smiled Bettina staring at his blank face. 'But she knows what she is doing, believe me.'

Vetinari looked at her uneasily.

'I would recommend you to go there and say a proper 'Good By'.

'She said she would be gone for a couple of days…' anxiously answered Vetinari, stepping on his other foot.

'This is what she said to her servants when she packed her bags to Ankh-Morpork.'

Vetinari looked at the closed door. 'And tell her not to scream too loud this time.' smiled Bettina, watching him stepping towards the exit. 'After all there is a child in the Palace.'

Vetinari turned at the door, turned slowly and stared at her for a moment. He pronounced calmly:

'Congratulations, Your Majesty. You have a wonderful daughter.'

Bettina watched him move out, she had some thoughts in her mind, but one of them prevailed the others. She looked at the baby and cryed happily, caressing its little head.

---

The Ancient Hall filled quickly, Sir Samuel stood by the door welcoming the guests with empty look. Sybil was trying to smile, although she had some heavy thoughts too. Most of the members of the City Watch were here. Nobby ravaged the food tables, Collon stood beside his wife listening to her endless monologue with irritation. Vimes observed the movement, there was a small circle in the left corner, where some nobles and Guild presidents were speaking under their breaths. Vimes knew there was something going on, but he had no idea what would happen next. He stared at the small group, meeting Lord Rust's eyes. He blinked a little, not expecting to see His Grace's interested look. He bowed gently his head, breaking the eye contact, whispering something in his attendant's ear.

Lady Sybil watched over the ladies gathered around. She evaluated their looks, their heavy spirits, their body abilities, estimating which one of them would fit Carrot's expectations. They were all beautiful in their own manner, each one of them was an offspring from a good family with more or less tradition in wedding tribute. She couldn't make her choice, she decided to leave it to Carrot. He might be delighted to see them all, she knew he had some taste in women, although she thought he would not be quite happy to find out what Lady Sybil had managed for him right now.

He was delayed. Lady Sybil watched at the front door with expectation, he must be here any minute. Sam told her he was coming with a company, although she preferred he would be coming alone.

'Good evening, Mr. Vimes' saluted Carrot when he finally appeared at the gate. Sybil looked at him, then to his left, where a young blond lady was standing. He looked at her irritated face, moved her fronting their graces and introduced her gently.

'This is miss Anne Frisky, she is a nurse and apparently my baby-sitter.'

'Oh, _that_ miss Frisky!' laughed Vimes, stretched his hand to take hers and put a botch kiss. 'Carrot told me so many things about you.'

She gazed at him. 'He did?'

Sam Vimes smiled again, watching her from down to up. 'You are really a marvellous lady, it is obvious.'

Anne gazed at her right where Carrot's face blushed. Lady Sybil smiled gently, took her hand and moved Anne to herself. 'Finally! I haven't seen you for weeks, dear. Let me introduce you to the rest of the people here. I guess you know too less of them, we shall correct it this instant.'

She moved her to the main part of the hall, turning back to her husband, who sighed deeply and looked at Carrot's blushing face.

'She is a hit, Carrot. Where did you find her?'

Carrot lifted his shoulders. 'Actually Dr Loan met me one day, he told me that he has a good baby-sitter, according his words Lady Sybil granted her as a peasant and well mannered woman, so I thought that the recommendations are enough to hire her...'

'Oh, yes… Sybil told me about her, of course, she knows every person in the city taking some particular position. She had a good opinion about her without even knowing her yet. Do you know, she was Prudence mayor's only daughter. Such a loss, you know what happened to Prudence during the yellow fever last year. Entire family dead.' He looked at Carrot's thoughtful face, clearing his throat and smiled uneasily. 'You know Sybil's mania to have her Hoghswatch list ready with everyone that worth her attention. She things your lady is good enough to put her in the top hundred, this is the way you must be sure, Sybil has no prejudice about her.'

Carrot lowered his head. Vimes smiled.

'If I knew she was so pretty I would hire her myself.'

Carrot blushed again. Sir Samuel led him to the food table. His eyes became the same empty look while he was passing by the noble's circle. Even though he made a small bow at them, pressing his absent look at Lord Rust's face.

'Did you learn something about the Fire?' he asked while putting some chicken on his plate. Carrot bowed slowly.

'The trade documentation Mr. Burley committed at my office said enough. The Ephebian fire must have slipped from the Customs office; there are no data about its import. I already have two ideas: First: The weapon is quite huge just to miss the Customs. There must be some blazing conspiracy according its import, combining underground evil minds and bribes on state level, which I can't believe in. Second: The weapon might be produced here, in Ankh-Morpork. You know our armourers are the best on the Disc, so I presume this is the right answer.'

'What was done next?' asked Vimes observing the hall for the place Mr. Burley was. The man at the deep corner received his stare and shimmered.

'The lads are checking every armourer in the city now. I expect to see the reports tomorrow morning.'

'Tomorrow…' murmured Vimes. 'The duel is tomorrow…'

Carrot stared at him for a while. Vimes had a strange sparkle in his eyes. Carrot used to see him irritated, anxious, angry, annoyed and sometimes satisfied, enjoyed and smiling. Now he saw him worried. What Vimes was thinking he didn't know, but he knew what would he think in a moment like this. He shimmered, tracing His Grace's stare. Lord Rust made no attention on them, although he knew they were watching them.

'Don't worry, Mr. Vimes.' he added thoughtfully. 'I believe the mystery will be solved soon. I am sure the Ephebian fire will not make any damage again.'

Vimes nodded uneasily, watching around the hall. The musicians gathered at their shell and after easy attuning of their instruments they played the gathered accords. Carrot looked at the hall, staring his eyes in a specified position. He bowed thoughtfully, speaking slowly with absence in his voice.

'I'm sorry, sir. I have to leave you for now. I will go and ask miss Anne to dance.'

Vimes stared at his fast move toward the crowd and followed him smiling. Sybil smiled back, when he touched her shoulder.

---

Dr. Loan had no experience with dealing with children. Carrot's twins were loud and jolly boys, maybe too jolly for his taste. He made them sleep by speaking about the newest surgery techniques. Their eyes closed permanently while he was explaining the gastric ulcer removing procedure. He sighed with satisfaction and made sure they were well covered. He went to the kitchen, lit a cigarette and inhaled satisfactorily. Yes, that was a nasty habit he tried to uproot in the city society, although he never had the idea how to uproot his own. He never smoked in public, he was some kind of hypocrite about it, he smoked only while he was by himself, putting his satisfaction on.

He smashed the cigarette in the open windowsill, disposing it outside, waved with his hands to defuse the smoke and went into the corridor to welcome Carrot. The man in the parade uniform smiled at him, although he was too tired to say a word. Dr Loan followed him in the nursery, observed his gentle moves and then followed him to the kitchen.

'They were angels.' reported the old man. 'Real angels.'

'Did they cause you any troubles?' asked Carrot, while removing his polished breastplate.

'Oh, not at all' smiled Dr Loan. 'Very clever and well mannered children, indeed.' He looked at Carrot. 'Now tell me how it was?'

Carrot's eyes sparkled. 'Fine, I guess.'

'Fine? As I see it was more than fine.' He pointed at his cheek where the lipstick trace was still seen. Carrot blushed. 'Gentlemen don't talk about things like that.'

Dr Loan giggled. 'So, then it was more than fine?' Carrot followed his gesture, blushed again and opened his eyes widely. 'Dr Loan, this is disgrace. A man at your age!'

The old man lifted his shoulders. 'Well, tell me anything. After all I need my curiosity to be satisfied. Come on!'

Carrot put his sward aside, unbuttoning his steel cardigan. He thought for a minute, then smiled gently.

'We danced.'

The old man followed his absent eyes. 'And…?'

'She is a good dancer.'

'And…?'

'Then I walked her home.'

'And…?'

Carrot stared at his direction, lifting his eyebrows, letting him know he would not tell anything more. Dr Loan puffed uneasily, letting him know he was not satisfied. Carrot made a face, that meant the conversation on that specific topic was over. He walked the old man to the door, expressing his gratitude constantly, which Dr Loan received with no interest. When he was left alone, Carrot moved to his bedroom, unbuttoned his shirt, removed his trousers and lied down on the bed. He stared at the ceiling for long time, then he remembered something, pressed his hand on his cheek and smiled.

---

So, guys, this is part 6. I hope you liked this part. Please review. I need your oppinion.

Soon will be the next part, where Vimes and Rust will have their duel. Advices, advices?


	7. Part Seven the Final

**The Choice**

**Part Seven**

'Sam!'

Sir Samuel Vimes tried to open his eyes to see who was pushing him out of his sleep.

'Mmm?' he muttered.

'Sam!' whispered Sybil, still pushing his shoulders. 'Carrot is here. He said it was urgent.'

Vimes opened his eyes to see her face in the darkness. She handed his wrapper, while he was slipping out of the bed.

'What is so urgent?' he murmured to himself, stepping out of the bedroom, following the light at the bottom of the staircase. Carrot was standing at the door, holding his helmet and already saluting.

'I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Vimes. I thought you must know this.'

Vimes sighed helplessly and made his way into his study, showing the comfy armchair at his front.

'What is going on, Captain? Does it have anything with the Fire?'

Carrot buried his eyes into his helmet and sat unwillingly. 'I could say, yes, sir.'

Vimes sighed again, pressing himself back in his chair. Carrot cleared his throat.

'There was an accident tonight at the Armourers Guild, sir. It looks like the whole Main Hall had been melt by someone we couldn't detect. Mr. Burley is fine, a little burned here and there, but looks like he will live after all. Dr Loan is carrying him at the clinic, unfortunately some of the guild members are dead, they couldn't avoid the Fire, as I have been told…'

'Was the assassin detected?' groaned Vimes.

'Unfortunately…'

'Was the Fire taken over?'

'It seem like…'

'I see…' added Sir Samuel. 'Did anyone recognize the assailant?'

Carrot blinked nervously. 'Blast!' sighed Vimes. 'Any result with the pall's investigation you mentioned me last night?'

The young man shook his head. Vimes sighed deeply and prepared to stand up. 'I want detail report as soon as possible. And make sure the boys will be equipped with asbestos breastplates. It seems like the city is developing some new progress we have to follow undeviatingly. I recall I have signed the order last week, it includes some new equipments I haven't seen on the boys yet.'

'They are in the depot, sir.'

'Then say Nobby to take care everyone to receive their new armours, I know what he is doing, drop him a hint I could be very importunate. Not like Vetinari, f course.' He leaned closer, staring Carrot with his tired angry eyes. 'I could be worse.'

'Yes, sir!' Carrot saluted and lifted up to exit.

'And, Carrot?'

'Yes. Sir?' answered the guardian already pressing the main door handle. Vimes exhaled with boredom. He moved to him slowly, like pondering about the last details in his mental oasis.

'I want guards everywhere. Each nobility with a couple of guards. The Guild leaders – single guarded, they have their resources; I don't want to be told I am crossing the line again. I want to have any details about the incident with the Armourers in the morning, let Cheery overlook there, I need precise inspection. Call on the informers, someone should know anything at all. The crowd at the Saton Square this evening will be huge, so be sure they are not under danger. I don't want to be remembered as the only Patrician exterminating his own citizens. I don't want to imagine Vetinari's face when he hears the news.'

Carrot looked at him with interest, bowed his head and opened the door thoughtfully. Vimes stared at the door closing, he was in rage because of everything about that stupid Ephebian fire machine, causing the city too many casualties, and mostly – lives. He moved up to dress and in few minutes walked out directing to the Palace.

The streets were empty at this time of the night. When he stepped on the Feather Road he heard silent steps behind him. He directed to the nearest doorframe and leaned to repair his sliding socks, glancing at the area under his trousers. There was a slim silhouette standing far beyond his reach. It wasn't moving, pretending to hide by the huge bridge column at the opposite side of the road. Vimes observed the figure for some more seconds, then he walked again. The silhouette followed in a distance.

---

Lady Antonia gained the borderline with Quart and slid silently through the open niche at the huge stone wall. There was no one near by. The frontier post was too far, it was quite suitable for her future purpose. It was snowing again. She had to forsake the horse a few miles away at the Uyman pass. The sun already showed behind the mountain chains when she passed the snowy field leading to Canton, Quart's main town. She turned to oversee the surroundings. No one chased her. She smiled nervously, stretched her white leather coat to warm against the bitter cold and followed her path. The Corry Selesty peak was looking at her from above.

---

Mr. Ivan Stake yelled stepping out of his workshop's corner, where his body was melting down.

'What was that?' he screamed at the awful picture at his legs. He saw the man coming into the basement, he expected him earlier, he was late. The man said nothing to excuse himself, raised the weapon and fired.

THAT WAS YOUR END, said the grim voice at his left. Mr. Stake turned, fixing his angry eyes at the tall bony figure. Death lifted his shoulders and handed him his palm.

'But he didn't even pay…' protested the dwarf. Death sighed with boredom.

IT DOESN'T MATTER ANY MORE, MR. STAKE.

'Doesn't matter? _Doesn't matter_? That idiot owe me _one hundred_ dollars!'

YOU WON'T NEED ANY MONEY FROM NOW ON.

'But he…'

IF YOU FOLLOW ME, MR. STAKE, IT WILL TAKE ONLY A SECOND TIME.

'But I…'

I HAVE NO MUCH TIME. FOLLOW ME, PLEASE.

'Do I have to listen? I was not paid yet and I am not going anywhere without one hundred dollars in my pocket!'

Death sighed uneasily, looked at the dwarf's angry face, moved the scythe to his other hand and thrust his palm into his pocket, lifting a huge purse. Mr. Stake took it with interest, sat at the floor and undid the woollen knot. Death was looking at him with boredom. The dwarf rummaged into the purse, pulling out the silver coins.

WE HAVE NO TIME FOR THIS, MR. STAKE! added Death. The dwarf looked at him with no interest.

'I am not going anywhere until I count each coin in here!' said the armourer with his tenacious voice. Death stared at him for some seconds, then he produced the slim hourglass from the deep of his tunic and sighed.

---

The Duke of Ankh prepared his rapier. Willikins stood at his front, buttoning his white jacket, fastening the plastron and his breeches. Sir Samuel made him understand it was not necessary, but Willikins had his special right to prepare his master for the forthcoming duel. As his second man, he had to be sure Sir Samuel will be well preserved and present himself as well mannered high-ranking nobleman.

'And don't forget, sir' continued the butler, 'when you stand at Lord Rust's face you have to salute him…'

'Yes, I know!' Vimes rounded his eyes. 'Standing upright, raising my rapier to a vertical position with the guard either at or just below face level, and then lowering it again. I already practiced it several times. Last time you said I was doing just fine.'

'You did, well done it was. But I noticed one little thing: when you take the position, your left leg is a little bit forward than it supposes to be.'

'I don't think Lord Rust would notice this, Willikins' said Vimes, trying to escape his second man's reach. 'The man doesn't care what I do, he wants to make me a lathing stock, whatever I do he will take it as stupid as everything I do, nevertheless my strive to prevent it all.'

'He is a man of honour, sir' answered Willikins making a step at his direction again. 'Lord Rust is a perfect gentleman, his fencing abilities are the best I know, and I suppose he will expect the same gentlemanly treatment as his. I hope you understand how important this all is, sir.'

'I do, Willikins, but I can't ever stand his idiotic behaviour, as he is the best man ever born on Disc, wanting each and every to enter his expectations…'

Willikins looked at his master's face. It was still motionless, but he could feel the anger growing up. He aimed the rapier, which blade twisted and sang. He listened at the sound, his face showed him he liked it. He did it several times, enjoyed and fascinated.

Sir Samuel had a hard night, harder morning and even more hard day. The Armourers Guild went into mourning for those four men they lost in the Main Hall tonight. Mr. Burley was not in a mood, when the Deputy Patrician went to interrogate him at Dr Loan's clinic. And the informers didn't tell him more than he already knew. The death of Mr. Ivan Stake shot him last. Now he already knew who had produced the Ephebian fire and he proposed that the assassin taking his life was the same subject complotting against him and Mr. Burley.

Now he had to prepare for the duel with Lord Rust. It was almost the time, the evening came too fast today, he thought, he had no much time to prepare mentally for what he was to expect. And Willikins with his inpatient diligence…

Ful Moon Square was a place filled with people. It was always fool of people, but the crowd today was too much. There were windows open, producing the faces and even the bodies of men and women, paying too much to observe in better and tighter comfort.

Lord Rust was standing at his side of the fencing track, surrounded by his second men, his attendant and his fat wife. There were two lines of chairs at the both sides of the fencing track – for the nobilities of course and for the referee. Carrot sat at his main chair, expecting to give the first signal. His nomination for a referee was not unrespectable. He had the best fencing abilities in the town, even Monsieur Steaphen Fiquette, Vimes's fencing master, was in raptures over his mastership. Carrot lifted himself up to welcome Sir Samuel. He regarded both Vimes and Rust with a bow, separated his hands, pointing their positions and sat back, followed by the rest of the nobilities. The Full Moon Square silenced slowly, letting the couple concentrate.

Vimes raised his rapier to his face, watching Rust doing the same. They both lowered their rapiers with a swing.

---

The carriage stood by the road, waiting. Lady Antonia walked into it, closed the door with a swing and relaxed at her seat. The woman at her front bowed politely.

'Welcome back, Your Highness!' saluted the woman. Antonia wrinkled her face, she forgot when she was called Your Highness for last time. The woman continued slight nervously. 'I received your clacks message this morning. No one expected your appearance at the Palace.'

Antonia sighed. The carriage moved through a stony path, the interior part of the carriage shimmered, letting Antonia hold the seat arm with dizziness.

'Are you all right, Your Highness?' asked the woman leaning at her front. Antonia shook her head in a reply. 'Its all right, I guess I forgot how dreadful Quart could be. The snow was deeper than I remember, and the cold was spicier. I guess I've been spoiled.' She smiled at her face and tried not to think about the revolution in her stomach, cooling herself down.

'What was she doing lately?' she pronounced hardly.

'Nothing special, as ever, Your Highness. The Council makes preparations for the attack, she yells at them each day, she seems not happy for delaying the operation.'

Lady Antonia smiled at her face. 'You did well job, dear friend. I guess she doesn't suspect who stands behind the retard.'

'I guess so, she seems she doesn't have any idea the Council was listening to me.'

'I am glad you are here, dear friend' smiled Antonia and took her hand in hers. 'I don't know what would I do without you.'

---

'En-garde!' cried Vimes, stepping forward again. His white jacket was in blood spots, as Lord Rust's. They fought for an hour, stopping for several times to have a glass of water and a little rest. Carrot was sitting several meters aside, gathering with the rest of the nobilities. The lines were ten meters far from the fencing track, a suitable position, regarding Vimes-Rust maneuvers. Lord Rust adjusted his gloves, aimed the rapier and attacked. He never believed Sir Samuel could be such skilful fencer. Vimes cut him several times, once he even cut his jacket, injuring his chest skin. A little deeper and Lord Rust should have to fence somewhere else. He cut Sir Samuel too, but it was common, because he used to fence since his birth. But Mr. Vimes impressed him much. He was a country man some years ago, nevertheless his family had much longer and vigorous story.

'One point for me' said Sir Samuel, making a step back. Lord Rust put a hand over his bleeding chest again. 'Yes, Your Grace.' answered Rodney with a smile. 'One more step forward and you would have stabbed me.'

'No, I wouldn't.' Vimes lifted his rapier. 'If I did, you would stab me too. Your blade is much sharper than mine.'

'Very penetrating, Sir Samuel!' tiredly exhaled Lord Rust. 'Are you ready?' He aimed the weapon again. Vimes looked at his eyes. 'Isn't it enough, Rodney?' whispered the Deputy Patrician, leaning closer. 'I apologized already. Why do you want everyone to see us both fighting? We look like two cocks arguing for a hen-house. I think we both left down our reputations already. Why do you want to make a laughing stock from us both? I understand this is the reason to do it to me, but you…?'

Lord Rust looked at Vimes's face. He was not laughing at him. His eyes looked honest and anxious. It impressed him. He moved closer and whispered at Vimes: 'I am a nobleman, sir. I have some rights that include…'

Vimes looked above. He could swear he saw some movement at the roof at his left. He grabbed Lord Rust's resisting body and pushed him away.

'Hide!' he yelled. The fierce fire licked his leg while he was leaning over Rust, covering them both with the asbestos shield he produced from somewhere.

---

'_How dare you_ raiding our army against Smaiil?'

Queen Germana stared at Lady Antonia's face for long time. Then she moved to the first bench of the Grand Hall the Council of Quart used to gather.

'You have no right to penetrate where you are not invited!' said the young woman. Lady Antonia followed her pace.

'I have the full right to judge all your actions, Germana!' answered Antonia, following her steps around the hall. 'I am still a general of the army and _I am still_ your aunt!'

The young queen stopped and turned against her.

'_You_… You are married, _aunt_! Your rights stopped existing when you signed the contract! Don't you remember? You did sign, didn't you?'

'Oh, stupid, _stupid_ child!' yelled Antonia. 'Have you ever red the contract? What was it for? _A peace, Germana_! Between Quart and Smaiil! Your mother did so many things to achieve this! Don't you respect her honor? What was she fighting for all her life? Have you ever thought what your actions would cause us all? How did you think? Did you think _at all_?'

'Don't come down on me like a ton of bricks, Tulip! I can resist anything! I _am_ the queen of Quart! Obey me!'

Lady Antonia stared at the girl at her front. The Council members stared at her. She smiled and shook her head.

'Being my cousin's daughter doesn't make you more than my niece, child! If you were not Balmola's daughter, who would you be? I know – you would be a spoiled little coward, thinking she is in the position to rule over the country. Thanks Gods Martha was here to stop you. You spineless little… child!

'Martha?' yelled Germana, turning to the side where the old Amazon was standing. 'I knew I shouldn't trust you! Arrest her!' she cried pointing at her direction. 'Arrest them both!'

The guards standing nearby watched with a nervous stain at the side where Martha stood and the side their queen pointed. They didn't know what to do. Their silent stare mopped the hall. The queen gazed at them.

'What are you doing? Arrest them!'

They didn't move. Lady Antonia looked at the crowd in the Grand Hall, her face was angry and pale. She slapped at her face, watching her falling on the marble floor. She stepped by her site, glancing her from above.

'Even the guards don't obey you, Germana. Don't you see? They look at you, you think they see their queen. But they only see Balmola's daughter.'

She stepped back.

'When I was forced to agree with the contract I knew Balmola was protecting you from my menace. She thought you wouldn't be able to lead the country, she thought I would threat your rule and she did _everything_ to protect you from me. But I knew who you are. Your mother knew that I knew. You could pull the wool over everyone's eyes. But not mine, Germana. I've been watching at you. _Like a hawk_. I knew every step you did. I knew each word you've pronounced. You are _not_ a threat for me, Germana. You are a little silly girl pretending to be a queen of Quart.'

She stepped away, turning her back to the silent angry face of her niece. She heard her stepping on her feet. She didn't face her, it had no need. She heard her pulling out a dagger and she heard her yelling.

'You will pay, Tulip! You will pay for…'

Antonia De Constar-Vetinari turned abruptly. Germana froze at her face. Her eyes were glimmering with light green sparkle lines. She came to her senses and attacked the woman at her front.

'You will _pay_…'

The Red Tulip lifted her hand. A green thunderbolt sprang out of her fingers and stabbed Germana. She screamed, writhed with the pain her body was under and dropped at the floor, twisting convulsively. Her skin wrinkled in the flames coming from her inside.

Antonia watched at her bending with no feeling on her face. Germana took her last breath, her body convulsed and she didn't move any more.

The Red Tulip stepped away from her steaming body, looked at the speechless crows and yelled:

'This will happen to each and every person daring to endanger Quart. _I will have NO mercy_!'

The Council stood silent. No one moved for the next couple of minutes, staring at the melted body at the marble floor. The yell came in surprise:

'The queen is dead! Long live the Queen!'

---

Carrot jumped to put out the flame on Sir Samuel's leg, then helped his boss stand up and them both run to the entrance leading to the nearest roof.

'Go right!' commanded Vimes when they reached the open skylight. Carrot obeyed.

There was no way to escape from the roof. The nearest roof was too far to jump. There were many chimneys the assaulter could hide behind, but they all knew he wouldn't escape. Not if he doesn't kill them both. The crowd from the street cried loudly, pointing. Vimes followed their lead. There was a large chimney at his left, just a meter from the roof edge. Vimes stepped carefully, stopped to listen and heard the breathing. His heart bet harder, he stepped forward, ready to stab the man with the rapier in his hand, when he heard the whistle and then the hit. The man behind the chimney bent, leaned forward, pressing his fingers at his chest, resit against the adobe wall and stared at Vimes. He exhaled painfully, doubled against the dagger in his thorax and flew down. Vimes stood at the edge of the roof, staring at the spread figure.

Carrot came at his cry and looked at the crowd underneath, then he fixed his eyes at Vimes with a specific question. Vimes replied the same. Then he looked at the machine fallen in Vimes's feet, moved it slightly with his foot and kicked the weapon from the roof.

'Oops!' yelled Carrot. The Ephebian fire smashed on the pavement with a crack. Both Vimes and Carrot watched at the crowd, grabbing the parts of the Disc's most exquisite machine until it disappeared. Carrot turned to Vimes's tired eyes.

'Are you all right, sir?'

Vimes sighed deeply, nodded anxiously and led him out of the roof edge.

'Uhum!'

The figure stood at the end of the roof's top. Vimes stared there. He knew that silhouette, he aimed the rapier ready to attack. The man jumped from the lifted part of the roof and stood at his front.

'Nice to see you are all right, Your Grace.'

Vimes stared at him again. 'Who are you? I know you. You followed me this morning…'

'I follow you from weeks, Your Grace' answered the man. 'Lord Vetinari hired me to… uhum… protect you.'

'Protect _me_?' yelled Vimes, lowering his rapier.

'Yes, sir.' answered the man. Vimes looked at his black clothes. He could see the knives heads underneath his jacket. He smiled at himself. Assassin… Hired from Vetinari… to protect him… Then he looked at the pavement.

'Who is that man?' he pointed down. The assassin smiled nervously.

'Not someone you should worry about any more, sir.' answered the man. 'A special guy hired to do a special task.'

'To kill me?' cried Vimes, making a step forward. The assassin nodded. 'Unfortunately I couldn't stop him attacking your office, sir, but…'

'Vetinari's office!' insisted Vimes.

'His Lordship's office.' added the man. 'My men followed him from the beginning. He went to Mr. Ivan Stake's workshop, asking for the manufacture of the Ephebian fire. He is the man murdering the gunsmith. And he attacked the Armourers Guild, killing four men. I don't know why he went there, I suppose he wanted to take some equipment from there, but I didn't see any with him, I suppose he didn't succeed.'

'Who is… was he?' sighed Vimes.

'A man with no name.' answered the assassin. 'A man with no luck, I suppose. Everyone knows you are not an easy task, Milord.' He smiled at Sir Samuel and nodded politely. 'I am glad I made acquaintance with you, Your Grace. I hope I will see you soon. In better circumstances, I suppose.'

He moved back to leave the roof.

'Who are you?' yelled Samuel Vimes. The man turned round, smiled tenderly and answered quietly.

'Call me… your… guarding angel… Good evening, Sir Samuel.'

---

Antonia stared at the yelling crowd, she sighed deeply and shimmered, tottering to the exit. The last events exhausted her so much she couldn't breath normally. She wasn't using the special technique fro years, she had forgotten how uneasy she used to feel afterwards. Lady Martha Stonjegger came to support her. She whispered at her ear:

'You have to be cautious, Milady. In this position of yours you have to rest more.'

Antonia stared at her, stopped at the door sill, sighed deeply and almost faint away, watching at her husband coming through.

'Havelock?!'

He came nearer, smiling happily, took her hand and produced a tender kiss.

'I hope I didn't come too late?'

'What are you doing here?' she grabbed him and hugged him tight.

'I couldn't stay even a moment far from you, dear, knowing you might be in danger.'

He stared at her for long time. He smiled and pressed her lips with a tender and deep kiss. She shimmered, fixing her face on his.

'I have to tell you something, Havelock…'

Martha smiled at him, pronouncing proudly: 'It seems your wife is the new queen of Quart, Milord.'

He looked at Antonia's eyes. 'Is that true, dear?'

She nodded uneasily, staring at his pale face. Lord Havelock Vetinari knew what would it bring to. He was hoping it wouldn't come so fast. He was expecting some more years. Lady Antonia's eyes watered, she led him through the corridor where her premises were. When she closed the door, she came to his front, pressed herself to his body and leaned her head on his chest, pronouncing hardly.

'I will abdicate, Havelock. I can not rule the country.'

He gazed at her, pondering over the situation they were in. His fingers brushed her hair, his skin felt her heart beating. He lifted her face to his.

'You will not do that, Antonia.'

She stared at him. 'I can not leave you, Havelock. Not now, when…'

He fixed his adoring stare at her tearing green eyes. He watched her for long time, then he pressed a passionate kiss on her weeping lips, she put her arms around his neck and relaxed in his hold. He embraced her waist tightly, trying to avoid the stomach area his child was in. Then he led her to the bed, taking off his and her clothes. Soon the bed shook and the bed string cried under a couple making love.

---

Sir Samuel Vimes was sitting in his chair at the Palace's throne hall, surrounded by the Guild presidents and most of the nobilities. They all knew they should not tell anything about the duel between him and Lord Rust. They had no right to penetrate where they were not invited. Lord Rust sat at his chair as usual, he had a tight sling over his neck, holding his injured arm. Sir Samuel also had some injuries, his leg was not functioning precisely, his ebony walking stick was leaning against the table post.

'And we are all very glad when Mr. Burley could finally exit Dr Loans' clinic, thanks Gods he had to stay there for a week only. Welcome back, sir.'

Vimes stared at Carrot standing aside. He was hoping he could help him against those idiots, listening to his words only. Carrot was looking at him with absent eyes. Since the night he had spent with Anne after the Watch ball, he was not at himself. The woman must be very skilful, because Carrot managed to excuse himself from the evening meetings since then. He was looking well, as always, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. Vimes smiled.

The noblemen surrounding the big round table watched at him talking. Vimes discussed each matter with them, he even went into some areas the men around were quite nervous about before, but even then they didn't oppose him. Sir Samuel stared at Rodney Rust's face. He was watching at him with interest. Vimes wrinkled his eyebrows. Rust was never watching him. Not with interest. He was usually avoiding his eyes, pressing his attention aside. He observed his behavior lately. He was too silent, too agreeing… After the evening with the duel and the Ephebian fire and everything else followed, Vimes felt Lord Rust was turning into a different man.

Yes, he saved his life, protecting him with his own body. But that was not a reason to stare at him like that. Vimes felt the raising uneasiness inside. He moved anxiously in his chair while Dr Downey was presenting his weekly report. Even afterwards, when Dr Boggys, the Thieves president, started explaining the newest offers the guild members were presenting the street society, his anxiousness didn't drop down. Lord Rust was still watching him.

Drumknott came to whisper something in his ear, he took the letter from his hand and glanced at his cover for some seconds. Then he nodded and let the clerk stay.

'Excuse me, Mr. Boggys, I hope you will not be angry at me. I've just received a letter from His Lordship. He insists to read it aloud at everyone's ear. I guess the moment is quite suitable, I see we are all here.'

Mr. Boggys nodded politely and seated at his place. Vimes looked at the envelope, trying to open it with his unsteady fingers.

'Let me, sir' said Drumknot and took the letter from Vimes's greeting hands. He broke the wax seal apart, unfolded the paper and red:

'_Sir Samuel, ladies and gentlemen!_

_I hope this letter is red in everyone's presence. I will be short enough. Firstly I would like to thank you all for the patience you had while I was away from my duties. I regard Sir Samuel's actions as my Deputy. I believe his role in the city's well being was taken with the necessary respect from all of you. I confess I had some mental prejudices before but I am glad I did it, because Sir Samuel could finally show us all who he really is._

_The next item of my letter I would like to present, is my retirement. I have worked long enough and I feel I need some rest. I hope my successor would be welcomed and threat well enough as I was. I guess I should call the name of the person I think is suitable for my former position. I already called it earlier in my letter. I guess Sir Samuel Vimes would be a good Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, I believe he proved himself as a skilful man I would like to nominate. _

_I will stay in touch with the cities well being, be sure I will watch you over even from a distance far as Quart is. For those who believe my words support of Sir Samuel are not enough, I would advise you al rethink. My agents had just transferred a large amount of money into the Assassins treasury against all of the people thinking they could assault my heir. Please, do feel free to protest against my wish to protect Ankh-Morpork's well being._

_As far as I could stay your friend,_

_Lord Havelock Vetinari (former Patrician of Ankh-Morpork, recently King of Quart)_

The party of men and women were silent, still repeating over and over what was just red. Some minutes passed, when Vimes stood silently and put his heavy hands on the table.

'I will _not_ suffer this even a minute longer!' he yelled. 'I will not…'

Drumknott put another letter in his front.

'This came especially for you, Milord.'

Vimes looked at the clerk's face questionably. He cracked the seal and red. His face remain angry for a minute, then its colour went away, making him shimmer with a fury. He remained silent, in everyone's eyes.

Mrs. Palm put her hands over the table, lifted slowly and pronounced calmly: 'I agree with His Lordship. Mr. Vimes was a very good deputy. I think he will continue his efforts. I vote: Pro!'

Dr Boggys lifted his hand and pronounced uneasily: 'Pro!'

Dr Downey, reading the newest message in his trembling hands, put a glance on Sir Samuel and almost whispered: 'Pro!'

The rest of the nobilities followed him with more or less excitement. Vimes was looking at them with a pale face. He couldn't believe Vetinari's attempts to make his angry came to this point. He lowered his face in his palms, listening the long numbered 'Pros' filling into the Throne hall. He looked at them all. Spineless idiots! Vetinari was playing with them all even from a distance that far. They were his puppets and he was their puppet-master. His eyes watched them all. Beginning with the beggar's queen Molly, and ending with the Lawyer Guild's president's grey face. Each and everyone of them had the audacity to look at his face. It was not far in time when they all transferred some capitals to the Assassin's treasury against himself. These spineless idiots…

Drumknott signed the votes, standing at Sir Samuel's back. 'Twenty votes Pro. One more vote remaining.' reported the clerk. 'Lord Rodney Rust? Sir?'

Vimes looked at him, Rust looked at him back. The nobilities were spectacling their glance duel. No one of them moved, nor blinked for some time. Finally Rust lifted his hand, still staring at Vimes.

'I say…'

He fixed his gaze at Sir Samuel's neck, where a slim scar was reddening. His personal sign he was giving to all men he was fencing with.

'I say Pro!'

Carrot smiled from the distance he was.

'Congratulations, Sir Samuel! Long live the Patrician!'

**THE END**

_I hope you liked the end of the story. I enjoyed a lot while wrighting it. Please review if you have anything to tell me. I wayt for your crytics and advises. _

_Thank you all for being with me. _

_Next target: Susan Sto Hellit!_


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